The Heart of the Matter
by mpluto
Summary: In A Matter of the Heart, Trapper lost the woman who was to be his wife at what we thought was the end of the story. But is she really dead?
1. Chapter 1

**The Heart of the Matter**

 **Prologue**

Sleep. Never before had he found it so hard to sleep. You're tired, you lay your head on the pillow, close your eyes and sleep comes. Why isn't it coming now?

 _What am I missing?_

Sitting on the same bench he'd come back to for days, he looked out, searching for the answer to that question. He'd stared out at the foggy ocean for so long his eyes burned from the salt wind and grit in the air.

When he started mumbling, the walkers and joggers and especially the children took the extra time to make a wide arch away from the smelly, haggard man he had become. After all, they had no idea who he was…how _important_ he was.

 _If I'm so important, why can't I think? What am I missing?_

Over and over again, he reached out. If she had been in the ether, he would feel her there. But he felt her _here._

Taking a long breath of the almost palpable, life-giving oxygen around him, a cocktail of heavy, salt-laden humidity mixed with a good measure of fishiness and a touch of motor oil, he stood and took pause at the stench that wafted up from himself, then smiled at the sound of her voice inviting him to the bath, only to realize it was all in his head. _She_ existed only in his head.

He'd made his way over the hill before he stopped talking to her. People expected him. _Funerals were for the living. The dead no longer cared_. She wouldn't be at her funeral whether she was _there_ or _here_.

 **Chapter One**

Cracking the door just enough to peek in, Nurse Ernie Shoop found Trapper asleep on his sofa and quietly tiptoed over to him. She didn't want to startle him out of his sleep. The first time she had done that, he'd been…Ernie didn't really know if it was a dream or a nightmare, but the awakening was sad either way. _She_ wasn't here whenever he woke up. _She_ existed only in his dreams.

She gently shook his shoulder. "Trapper. Trapper, wake up. It's time to get ready for the funeral."

His reaction surprised her this time. Rather than the sudden jump to his feet declaring she was all right and that it was all a mistake, or those times when he awoke with that question, "What am I missing?" he opened his eyes and smiled.

Sitting up, he ran his fingers through the hair on the sides of his head, and then over the smoothness on top.

"Another dream?"

In his deep baritone voice, he said quietly, "One more of thought. I've let myself go. If she were here, she'd disown me."

"Do you remember the funeral is today?" Ernie asked, passing him a cup of black coffee.

"Mm hm. I was reminded." Slowly rising up off the sofa, he went into his private bathroom and looked into the mirror, running his hands over his beard. "I haven't trimmed this thing for days." In fact, Trapper hadn't done much for days except sleep on the sofa in his office. He couldn't face going home just yet. Even though she hadn't yet moved in, she lingered there. The night he identified her in the morgue was the last night he would ever step foot in her pool house. She permeated everything in it. And today, he would see her for the last time on this Earth, and he wanted to look his best for her. Then he remembered. _Funerals are for the living. The dead don't care._

That foreboding feeling he'd had ever since he'd left her place flowed over him like a veil. _Something's not right. What am I missing?_ Then that one thought that he had pushed away so readily the last few days sprang forth, adamant to get out. _She's not dead. She would never have drowned. If she had gotten in trouble in the water, she would have relaxed and floated. But she was on the slab at the morgue, cold and lifeless. What am I missing?_

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Even though Boyd Stephens, the Chief Medical Examiner in San Francisco, had been forbidden to perform the autopsy because of his closeness to the case, no one could deny his access to the results. She had drowned. The autopsy confirmed it, and there were no signs of foul play. The body had been released two days ago to the funeral home, and the funeral was today.

Trapper had stopped eating, drinking, working…functioning, except that he had forced Boyd to give him the particulars about the autopsy as if he were looking for something that said this was not her. But he'd identified her himself. And Boyd had met her. The woman that had been in his morgue was the same woman Trapper was going to marry. All Trapper could say in response was, "What am I missing?"

How could they have missed anything?

"Tracy, would you bring me Leah Haverty's file? I want to take one more look at it before I go to the funeral."

Boyd's secretary shuffled into the office and tossed the file on Boyd's desk. "I'm going to find another cover for that file. You've pretty much worn it out."

Boyd never heard her. He opened the file and stared at the report sitting right on top; the dental report. It hadn't been there earlier. Because they had already positively identified her, they released her to the funeral home before the dental report came back.

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Just inside the door of the funeral home, Trapper stood with his head bowed and his hands clasped in front of him wearing his black three-piece suit; the one that Leah liked so much. He even wore the tie she had purchased for him. Funeral homes never really bothered him. He was used to death. After a stint as a surgeon in a MASH unit during the Korean War, and then in his capacity as Chief of Surgery at San Francisco Memorial Hospital, death was a natural part of his life. Today, he dreaded going into the room where her body lay, because seeing her there only confirmed that _she's not here_. _But she is._

A hand moved across his shoulder, and a familiar voice greeted him. "Trapper, how are you holding up?" asked Albert Shaefer, Leah's attorney.

Trapper gave him a weary smile, but said nothing.

"I understand. When you have some time, I need to discuss some things with you. Leah had a will and a trust, and she named you the trustee and beneficiary. And I wanted to share a recent discussion I had with her. An important one."

"How long will you be in town?"

"As long as it takes. Don't worry about the time."

Melanie McIntyre, Trapper's ex-wife, had joined Ernie, Dr. Gonzo Gates and Nurse Gloria Brancusi as they approached Trapper. She slipped her hand into his, and when he looked, she smiled, but her eyes were red from tears. Not so much for Leah. After all, she barely knew the woman. But because she knew what Leah Haverty had meant to Trapper, she understood his pain.

"Trapper," said Ernie, taking the lead. "The director would like you to go in first to make sure everything is the way you want it. You can go alone, or any of us can go in with you."

With his eyes slowly becoming moist, Trapper smiled at each one of them and simply nodded, and with Ernie on one side, Melanie on the other and Gonzo and Gloria behind him, they walked into the room together and over to the casket.

Furrowing his brow, as did everyone around him, he spun around toward the door, but before he could exit the room, Boyd Stephens strode in. The two men glared at each other for a moment before Boyd said, "Let me guess. It's not Leah. Who is it?"

Flaring his nostrils, Trapper answered, "Angela Bedford."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Within the next half hour, the funeral home was swarming with San Francisco police and FBI. Boyd had already contacted his office, ordering a team of forensic investigators to the scene. Everyone had been sent out of the visitation room, except for Trapper, who was pacing the floor and spitting mad. When Boyd returned, Trapper launched into a tirade.

"Of all the irresponsible things, Boyd, how the hell did this happen? It was Leah on the table when I identified her. Now your people have performed an autopsy on an entirely different woman. Where's Leah?" he yelled.

Boyd stood with his hands in his pockets, occasionally glancing up at Trapper during his rant. "Trapper, we both identified Leah. But I wasn't allowed to perform the autopsy, and the pathologist who did identified her by the tag." He hesitated before he went on, watching as Trapper turned his back to him. "They look similar enough to be sisters, Trapper. Miss Bedford fit the description."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Trapper calmed himself before he turned around. "A body was stolen from your morgue and replaced with a different one. How does that happen?"

Neither man noticed two men in black suits had entered the room. "That's a good question, Dr. Stephens. Just how does that happen?"

Boyd spun around. "Who are you?"

One of the men pulled out a badge. "Agent Darren Allen, FBI. Miss Bedford's disappearance is being investigated in Washington. The lead investigator is on his way here. Until he gets here, an agent will accompany that body," he said pointing at the casket, "everywhere it goes."

Agent Allen looked for Trapper who had walked away and sat down, his arms on his thighs, his hands rubbing his beard. "Dr. McIntyre, I'm sorry we had to meet again under these circumstances."

"If Angela's case is being handled out of Washington, why are you involved?"

"By chance. The police contacted the field office here in the city. I was the agent available. However, that may be a blessing."

Sitting up, Trapper glanced at Allen with a preoccupied look. "Why is that?" he asked, disinterestedly.

"Because, Doctor, we have a missing body. And I just happen to know Leah Haverty better than anyone else in the San Francisco office."

"Why would someone steal her body and replace it with that of a friend? It makes no sense."

"It made no sense that Angela Bedford disappeared shortly after you and Miss Haverty left Washington. We'll find out more when the Washington agent arrives. Will you be at home?"

Trapper only half heard what Allen had said. Whatever thoughts he had at the moment were disjointed. "Hm? No. I'll be at the hospital."

"I'll be in touch. Excuse me," said Agent Allen, walking away. "Dr. Stephens, I have some questions, but perhaps you'd like to talk at your office. They relate to the processing of the body at the morgue."

Boyd was standing at a desk and had just ended a telephone call. "I have a van on the way to take the body back to the morgue. I've told them to expect a passenger."

When they arrived at the morgue, Agent Allen and Dr. Stephens went straight to Stephens' office. Boyd sat behind his desk and shoved the file he had been reviewing across to Allen. "Leah's…" he stopped, casting his eyes to the side. "Angela's file. Frankly, I don't know what to label that file. Leah Haverty was here in my morgue. I saw her. Trapper saw her."

"Who else would have seen her?" asked Allen as he flipped through the file.

"The attendant on duty; the last person who would have recorded the absence of any vitals, removed her clothes, recorded any identifying marks, filled out the tag and assigned her a locker."

Looking at the folder, Allen asked, "Amit Desai?" Boyd nodded. "I'll need to speak with him. And the pathologist who performed the autopsy. Let's see…"

"Dr. Teresa Rodgers."

"Anyone else who would have come in contact with either body?"

"No, not direct contact, but we do have security. There would have been the guard at the front desk as well as the guard stationed just outside the morgue itself. Bodies have to be checked in and out whenever they are moved. Then there's the janitorial staff. And I have other staff assigned to other cases going in and out of the morgue."

"As soon as Washington gets here, they'll want to do a complete search of the premises."

"I'll let everyone know. You'll have our complete cooperation. Trust me. I want to know how this could have happened as much as anyone else."

"Your pathologist's report identifies the cause of death as drowning. Was that the original finding?"

"Yes. Leah's body was found on China Beach washed up on shore. There were no unusual marks on the body…nothing that indicated foul play. There was water in her lungs at the time."

"Were you aware that Miss Haverty was a heart transplant recipient?"

"Dr. McIntyre told me when he came in to identify her. And the attendant noted the scar down her mid-section."

"Your pathologist noted the scar as well. But all she says about the heart is that it appeared to be healthy."

Boyd felt responsible and had been looking down at his hands during the entire conversation. This was his morgue and someone had managed to subvert all his checks and balances. He looked up at Allen. "Well, according to Trapper, it was healthy."

"Does it seem odd to you, Dr. Stephens, that she didn't note any internal scarring? Wouldn't there have been scarring on the vessels themselves?"

Sitting rigid in his chair, Boyd held his hand out. "Let me see that." Allen passed the file, and Boyd began to read, flipping back and forth between the sheets of paper. "Any scarring _is_ usually noted. I could have sworn there were notes here."

"I think it's time we spoke to your pathologist."

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Trapper sat at his desk with his head in his hands. He raised it and turned when he felt familiar hands on his shoulders. "Why are you here?" asked the smooth Jamaican voice. "Arnold told you to take some time off."

"I'm Chief of Surgery, Ernie."

"Yes, I know. You keep telling us all. Your department heads are where they are because you trust them in their positions. And Gonzo can handle the thoracics, so why don't you go? We'll call you if anything out of the ordinary comes up."

"Ernie, what if she's alive?"

Closing her eyes, Ernie braced herself for that question she knew he'd eventually ask after the morning's events. Sitting against the credenza, she turned his chair around and took his hands. "Listen to me, Trapper. You saw her in the morgue. Do you doubt that now?"

"No, I would never have mistaken Angela for Leah. It was Leah they pulled out of that locker." Looking up at her with tired eyes, he added, "But she's not there now. Why would anyone take her body and replace it with Angela's? What am I missing?"

Ernie took a deep breath. She'd heard that question more than once in the last few days. "Trapper, you're not going to find any answers in the wood grain of your desk."

"No, you're not."

Both Ernie and Trapper looked toward the door where Melanie stood. "Ernie's right, Trapper. The best thing you can do is get some sleep. Have you slept at all?" Trapper turned away while Ernie shook her head in answer to the question. "I know you don't want to go home. Why don't you go over to my place and get some sleep?" Trapper's lips pursed at the same time an eyebrow arched. Shaking her head, Melanie smirked. "I have to go to work, so you'll have the place all to yourself."

"That's not a bad idea, Trapper," said Ernie. "It's not home, and it's not here. It will be quiet without anything to remind you."

Looking away in thought, Trapper wearily nodded his head. He was tired. He was so tired, coherent thoughts had become a problem. Rising from the chair, he took his jacket off the coat tree and slipped it on.

"I have an extra set of keys in my car," said Melanie. "You can let yourself in. You know where everything is."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 _"Trapper? Trapper!"_

"Hm? What...?" He opened his eyes to a completely dark room except for light coming through a door on the far side...and someone...a woman...standing in the opening.

" _Trapper, please come!"_

The woman began to back away and fade as the light began to envelope her the further away she moved.

"Wait. I'll come," he answered, getting to his feet and walking to the opening. So intent was he on searching for the woman in the light, he failed to notice the water beginning to lap at his feet. He stopped, regarding the water, and when he looked up again, he was on a beach...and the woman was in the water.

 _"I'm here. Please come."_

"Wait! Don't go!" As he rushed forward the water seemed to move away from him, but swell around her until there was nothing left but water. She was gone.

"Leah!" he said, suddenly sitting up in the bed. He was met by his own face staring back at him from the mirror across the room. Shaking his head, he ran his fingers over his head and through the hair at the sides, then swung his feet over the side of the bed. He paused before he pushed himself up and walked to the mirror, searching the face there. Finding no answers, he decided he'd go to the only place he thought he might find answers.

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Boyd looked up from the papers spread across his desk. "Trapper, what are you doing here?"

Stepping up to the desk, Trapper picked up the sheet that was in the center. "Maybe the same thing you're doing. Looking for...something."

"I've gone over every piece of this file at least ten times since Agent Allen showed up. The only thing unusual is a page missing from the pathologist's notes."

"May I?" asked Trapper, motioning toward the pile on the desk.

Boyd sat back and nodded. When it was apparent that Trapper was going to go over every line in the file, Boyd left for coffee, doubting Trapper ever realized he was gone. By the time Trapper had reread the last page for the umpteenth time, the two men had gone through two pots of coffee and an entire night.

Sitting in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, his elbows resting on the chair arms and his chin resting on his hands, Trapper broke the silence. "How did the EMT know there was water in her lungs?"

"Reflexive elimination when she was rolled to her side."

"Did he take a sample?"

"No. It was immediately absorbed into the sand. Why?"

"It could have come from her stomach."

Boyd suddenly sat up. "Trapper, she was gone. The stethoscope said she was gone, the portable EKG said she was gone." Boyd leaned sideways to see his face. "Her pupils were fixed and dilated."

When the phone buzzed, Boyd slapped the button and barked, "What is it?"

"Dr. Stephens, Agent Allen from the FBI is here to see you."

Looking over at Trapper, he rolled his eyes. "Send him in."

Agent Allen stopped for a moment when he opened the door before he continued in. "Good, you're both here. Dr. Stephens, I'd like to speak with Dr. Rodgers today."

Stephens pressed a button on his phone. "Is Dr. Rodgers in yet?"

"No, sir, but I expect her anytime."

"Ask her to come to my office as soon as she gets here. Straight to my office." He didn't wait for a reply.

"How about Amit Desai?" asked Allen.

Pressing the button on his phone again, he said, "Is Amit Desai in yet?"

"Mr. Desai resigned three days ago. HR has already hired a replacement." He slapped the button and gave Allen a troubled look. Trapper sat up and took notice.

"Get me his personnel file," said the agent. "I want to know everything there is to know about Desai."

When the personnel file arrived, Agent Allen occupied a chair next to Trapper, who had vacated his own and leaned against the wall next to the coffee pot. "Doctor, what do you know about Desai, other than what's here in his file?"

Taking a deep breath, Stephens thought before he answered. "He was quiet. Preferred to work alone, but his work was exemplary. In the year he's been with us, he's not made one mistake, and the pathologists he's worked with have nothing but praise for him."

"Family?"

"He never said, and I didn't pry."

"There's an emergency contact number here in his file. Do you know whose number that is?"

"I assumed family. I never had to use it."

"Why don't we use it now?" said Allen, reaching for the phone. He listened, and when he heard a language other than English on the other end, he hung up. "Would you please check to see if Dr. Rodgers is in yet?"

Boyd turned to the phone. "Is Teresa in yet?"

"No sir," answered the receptionist. "This isn't like her. She's always been punctual."

Closing the personnel file, Allen tucked it under his arm. I'll need Dr. Rodgers personnel file in addition to the file you have spread all over your desk."

"Now just a minute, Allen..."

"You know the procedure, Dr. Stephens," said Allen with raised brows. In fact, Boyd did know that no matter how much he protested, the FBI would get those files. He grudgingly gathered all the papers, stuffed them back into the manila folder, and passed it over to Allen who turned toward the door, but stopped in front of Trapper. "I'll tell you what I can when I have something."

Nodding, Trapper pursed his lips and exhaled. He wasn't very good at waiting.

At his car, Allen used his radio to call for help. "I'll need a translator for Middle Eastern...Indian. No, I don't know which language. Have him call 415-555-2378 and figure it out, and then meet me in an hour at this address...816 Dresher Lane." Starting the car, Allen planned to stop by Dr. Rodgers' home on his way to Desai's last known address.

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Trapper entered the hospital through the emergency room just after several ambulances had arrived. Dr. Stanley Riverside ran into him while moving a patient into a room. "Or sorry, John. We need a bubble mirror on the ceiling at this corner."

"No harm, Stanley." Trapper continued on.

"Say John," said Stanley, stopping Trapper mid-stride. "If you're feeling up to it, I've got another patient in two complaining of chest pains."

Looking down at the floor, Trapper hesitated, and without looking up with his usual accommodating smile, he said, "I'll take a look," and turned toward room two. A nurse had just taken the woman's information and handed the chart to Trapper who reached to pull a pen out of his pocket and realized he didn't have his hospital coat on. The nurse smiled and handed him a pen. "Miss Smithfield, I understand you're having some chest pains."

Miss Smithfield was a woman in her late thirties according to her chart, but she looked to be in her fifties. She wore jeans, a worn top, and draped over the back of a chair was a ratty looking coat. "Only when I breathe, Doc."

Trapper took a stethoscope from the nurse. "Let's sit you up. I want to listen to you breathe." Hearing no congestion, he asked, "How long have you had this pain?"

"For awhile now. It's just gotten so bad, I can hardly stand it."

"Why didn't you come in sooner?"

"I was hoping it'd just go away. I can't afford a hospital."

Nodding, Trapper asked, "Any other pain? Muscles? Joints?"

"I'm sure it's just arthritis, Doc. Can't you just give me something for the pain?" Trapper looked up at her from under his brows. "No, I suppose not. I'm not a druggy, Doc. I just hurt."

"You're too young to be hurting from arthritis. What is it, your knees?"

"Yeah."

"Elbows?" She nodded. "Let's see your hands." She held them out revealing blue fingernails. Looking directly at her face for the first time, he saw a tell-tale redness on her cheeks and over her nose. "All right, Miss Smithfield, we need to get a picture of your chest and get some tests run. The nurse here will have you sign a consent form."

"What kind of tests?"

"Oh, some blood work, urinalysis...normal tests," he said as he wrote in the chart.

"So you don't know what's wrong with me?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure why it hurts to breathe. I think you've got pleurisy...inflammation in the tissues around your lungs. The x-rays will tell us if that's true, and the tests will help us find out what's causing it." Turning to the nurse, he said, "Get a chest series, CBC, urinalysis including serum protein, and an ANA panel." The nurse glanced up at him to which he cocked his head and raised his brows. "Miss Smithfield, I'll come back when we've got the test results."

On his way to the elevator, Ernie stopped him. "Trapper, Stanley said you were seeing a patient?"

"I was," he said, pushing the up button.

Moving her hands to her hips, she shifted her weight to one leg. "I thought you were going to take some time off."

"I did," he said, stepping into the elevator and turning.

She quickly stepped in before the door closed. "Then why are you here?"

Bowing his head, he stroked his forehead with his fingers.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.

"No, I slept...some."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Agent Allen stormed into the FBI offices after receiving a summons from dispatch. When he arrived at his superior's door, he stopped, clamped down hard on his lip and took a deep breath before he entered.

"Sir, you…asked to see me?"

"Yes, Darren, I want you to meet your temporary partner, Agent Savage from the D.C. office."

Agent Savage stood and held out her hand, her black skirt settling just below her knee. A slight smile formed on Agent Allen's lips as he remembered meeting Ms. Haverty for the first time dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and a tight bun of hair on her head. If he had met her in any other setting, he might have thought she was one of them. He looked back at his district director, standing with his hands clasped in front of him. "Partner? I don't understand. She's here because of Angela Bedford. I'm investigating the disappearance of a completely different body."

"Not exactly, Darren. Whoever took Haverty's body had Bedford's. These cases are as related as sisters born of the same mother. Agent Savage has something you'll be interested in."

Stepping forward, she produced an envelope addressed to Dr. John McIntyre. "We found this in Ms. Bedford's safe along with a note from Ms. Haverty to get this to Dr. McIntyre if something happened to her. Of course, Ms. Bedford couldn't deliver it. At the time we found it, we had no idea Ms. Haverty had expired."

"And what does it say?"

"Read it yourself," she sneered, moving the letter closer to him.

Taking the envelope as he warily narrowed his eyes, he pulled the letter out, and after reading it, he looked up over the director's head, and then bent to read it again."

"Well, it's nothing solid, but it's worth checking out," said Allen. "I don't think we should tell McIntyre. He's got enough on his mind right now."

"Play is as you see fit, Darren," said the director as he bowed his head back over the work on his desk.

Agent Allen nodded toward the door, directing Agent Savage outside. "That's the way he dismisses us," said Allen as he headed toward the elevator.

"Where we headed?" asked Savage.

"To Dr. Teresa Rodgers residence. After that we'll be visiting the last known residence of Amit Desai. I'll fill you in on the way."

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"Gloria, would you hand me Miss Smithfield's chart?" asked Trapper. "I understand her test results are back."

Passing him the chart, Gloria glanced up at him as if she wanted to say something.

"Something on your mind, Gloria?"

"I just wanted...I mean, I know nothing really helps, but...well...I just wanted you to know that if you need someone to listen or just...I don't know...be around..."

Trapper looked over his glasses at her with a smile before he closed the chart and patted her hand. "Thank you, Gloria. I'll be fine." Opening the chart again, he headed down the hall to the examination room, pushing the door open and standing next to the bed concentrating on the test results in the chart.

"Well, Doc?" Miss Smithfield asked with a worried look. "You don't look like it says anything good in that chart."

Trapper pursed his lips, first looking up over his glasses, and then removing his glasses and tucking the chart under his arm. "How long has it been since you've seen a doctor?"

She laughed and turned away. "I've woke up every day for the last twenty years wondering where my next meal was coming from. Visiting a doctor never even crossed my mind. Hugging her chest, she added, "'til now. What is it? It's bad isn't it?"

"Well, it could be worse. But if I'm right, it will take some regular visits to a doctor to get it under control and keep it there. Have you ever heard of Lupus?"

"Yeah. My mother had Lupus."

"Mm hm. It's generally felt that Lupus can be genetic...passed from parent to child. Most people with Lupus are women, and your symptoms are common Lupus symptoms."

"But you're not sure."

"Lupus is sometimes difficult to diagnose. There's a wide variety of symptoms, and some of them come and go. That's why I need you to see a special doctor, a rheumatologist, who specializes in autoimmune diseases like Lupus."

"Doc, I don't have any money. I can't even pay you."

Smiling understandingly, Trapper touched her shoulder. "I don't want you to worry about that. We have a program here that can help get you the medical attention you need. Now, I want you to wait right here. Another doctor will see you and get you started on some medication to help with the pain. Someone from our business office will also come by to get you started on a program so that you get the medical help you need."

Miss Smithfield couldn't look Trapper in the eyes. "My mother didn't last two years after she found out."

"And how long ago was that?"

"Ten years, at least."

With a wide grin, Trapper said, "We've come a long way in ten years. Many Lupus patients live long, happy lives. Give it a chance."

Nodding and smiling, Miss Smithfield reached out for Trapper's hand. "Thank you, Doc."

"You're welcome," he said, squeezing her hand before he left the room.

Ernie and Gloria were waiting outside in the hall when he walked out. He ignored them and continued toward the elevator as each woman fell in on either side of him. "We thought you were going to take some time off."

"I did."

"Not enough."

Stopping at the desk, Trapper handed Miss Smithfield's chart to Gloria. "Williamson's coming down to see her. After he's done, I need you to call the business office to set her up on assistance. Now, ladies, I appreciate your concern, but taking time off will only have me sitting and thinking...about Leah. At least here, I have other things to keep my mind occupied. So stop acting like my mother, and start acting like nurses. We do have patients," he said, waving his hands at them, shooing them away as he entered the elevator.

Hesitating with his finger just above the button for the fourth floor, he moved down to the open button, took a deep breath and pushed. He wondered for moment why he'd done that, but deep down, he knew. He didn't want to sit and think in his office anymore than he wanted to sit and think at home. Arnold and Gonzo were doing a bang-up job diverting work from him. But there was always something going on in emergency. And he could stay there as long as he wanted, even if he stayed until he couldn't keep his eyes open.

It didn't take long for the next emergency call to come in. Leaning against the counter, Trapper listened while Stanley took the call. "Uh huh. Uh huh. Exposure?," said Stan, nodding. "Any major bleeding? Head injury. Got it. How long did you say she'd been there? All right, start her on fluids for the dehydration. How's she breathing? Good. Take care of the cut on her head and get her in here."

"What is it, Stan?"

"John, I may need you. We have a woman coming in. Her car went off the side of PCH 1 in the Headlands."

Trapper whistled. "That's a steep trip down."

With a short nod, Stan continued. "They said it looked like she went off sometime late last night or maybe early this morning. The missing guardrail wasn't reported until this afternoon, and then it took the DOT until late this afternoon to get over there. That's when they discovered the car down off the side."

"This afternoon?" Trapper looked at his watch. It was almost eight in the evening. "What took them so long to get her out?"

Stanley shrugged as he and Trapper walked to an exam room to prep it. "According to her driver's license, her name is Teresa Rodgers."

Trapper froze with his jaw slack as he stared at Stanley. "Excuse me, Stanley. I have to make a call."

"But John, she'll be here in fifteen minutes."

Grasping Dr. Riverside's arm, Trapper said, "She works for Boyd Stephens, Stanley. She didn't show up for work this morning."

"Oh no, John," said Stanley with genuine concern. "Boyd's really having some problems lately."

Trapper had been on his way to the door, but stopped with his back so rigid it was apparent to Stanley he'd put his foot in his mouth.

"John, I'm sorry. I didn't mean...," he said with an apologetic look. "Could it be related?"

Taking a deep breath, Trapper moved his hand to the back of his neck. "She's the pathologist who performed the autopsy on Angela Bedford." He continued out the door to the phone at the nurse's station.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Albert Shaefer wandered the halls of the hospital when he didn't find Trapper in his office. He stopped at the nurse's station. "I wonder if you can help me. I'm trying to find Dr. John McIntyre, but he's not in his office. It's urgent that I speak with him."

"Dr. McIntyre isn't supposed to be here, but I did see him earlier. I'll page him for you."

Down in the emergency department, Gloria heard the page and answered it. "I'm sorry, Dr. McIntyre is with a patient at the moment. Yes, you can send him down to emergency."

Within minutes Albert appeared in front of Gloria. "Hello. I'm Albert Shaefer. It is imperative that I speak with Dr. McIntyre."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Shaefer. The doctor is with a patient. If you'd like to wait in the waiting room just down the hall," she pointed, "I'll let him know you're here."

"Thank you. Please tell him it's urgent."

Gloria smiled, then watched the gentleman disappear around the corner into the waiting room before she left the nurse's station. Sticking her head in the door of the room where Trapper and Stanley were working on Ms. Rodgers, she said, "Trapper, there's an Albert Shaefer here to see you when you're done. He says it's urgent."

"Albert?" he mumbled as he listened to Ms. Rodgers heart. Raising his head, he swore, "Damn. I was supposed to call him. I don't know how long I'm going to be here. Tell him I'll get to him as soon as I can."

Trapper didn't even look to see that Gloria was gone. He had already determined the patient was bleeding internally, and probably had been for hours, and the fact that she was still alive meant that it was slow. But he had to make a reasonable guess as to where the bleeding was coming from based palpations, cuts and bruises. Turning to the nurse standing next to him, he said, "Page Dr. Gates, and reserve an OR. She's going to bleed out if we can't get this bleeding stopped."

"Yes sir," answered the nurse as she exited the room.

Dr. Riverside had checked her eyes several times since they had started working on her. "John, I'm not getting a response."

Trapper checked her eyes also, and then looked up at the machines beeping around him. "Her blood pressure is crashing. We're losing her. Get a crash cart!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Stanley, she's fighting. She's still in defib."

A man and woman in black suits entered through the emergency room doors followed by the San Francisco medical examiner, all rushing to the nurse's station. "Where can I find Dr. McIntyre?" asked the man in the black suit.

Gloria looked anxiously over at Ernie who had been called to assist Gonzo in surgery. "Gloria, I'll handle this." Turning to the man and woman, she said, "Would you all please follow me?" She led them into an empty exam room. "I know why you are all here, but you will wait until Dr. McIntyre comes out of the examination room."

"Nurse Shoop," said Agent Allen, remembering her from his former case at the hospital, "It's imperative that we see Ms. Rodgers."

Ernie stubbornly crossed her arms. "Agent Allen, she's not in any shape to be seen by anyone except the doctors who are working on her. You could spout off questions at her all you want, but she'll never hear you. Now Dr. McIntyre has ordered a surgical team and an OR which should tell you the woman is critical. You all may wait in the waiting room until I have more information." Opening the exam room door, she glared at them and waited for them to leave the room. When Boyd passed her, she reached out for his arm and squeezed, giving him a look that told him she'd let him know anything as soon as she could.

Nodding, he went to the waiting room, stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against a wall doing the only thing he could do...wait.

The exam room door burst open into the hallway belching out a gurney being pulled by an orderly and pushed by Trapper who was yelling as they rushed through the hall toward the elevator. "Ernie, did you find Gonzo?"

"He's on his way now."

"Tell him to go to the OR. She's crashing."

Dr. Stephens and Agent Allen heard the commotion and followed the gurney to the elevator. "What's happening?" asked Boyd.

Trapper had positioned himself alongside the gurney and was performing CPR while Stanley pumped air into Teresa's lungs. When he gave Boyd a rueful look, Boyd's jaw went slack as he stepped away from the elevator doors that were just closing. He was jerked back by a hand grasping his arm.

"What's going on?" asked Agent Allen.

Taking a deep breath, Boyd glanced at his arm with raised eyebrows. He held Agent Allen's eyes until Allen released his arm. "It would seem, Agent, that Dr. Rodgers won't be answering any questions."

"I don't understand. They're still working on her."

"When doctors are performing CPR and respiration in the elevator on the way to the OR, they are making what we call _heroic_ efforts. She probably died on the exam table, and they're hoping they can revive her. Based on the look Dr. McIntyre was wearing…" He lowered his head, collecting himself before he looked back up. "He's not hopeful. I'll find out what OR they're in. We can wait in the surgical waiting room."

Boyd excused himself and walked to the nurse's station. He came back in only a minute and pushed the button on the elevator, nodding for the two FBI agents to enter when the door opened. Following them in, he pushed another button, and soon they were walking out onto the surgical floor. While Agent Savage sat patiently, Dr. Stephens and Agent Allen both paced the floor for different reasons. Of course, Agent Allen was anxious to speak with Dr. Rodgers as she was the only person besides Amit Desai who could tell them what was written in the pathologist's report.

Boyd, on the other hand, wasn't thinking at all about the report or even about missing bodies. Dr. Teresa Rodgers had worked with him for over ten years and had been more than a colleague. That was a time he'd prefer not to dwell on as it brought back the memories of almost losing his wife because of his infidelity. But he and Maggie had weathered that particular storm and had been past it for eight years now. Still, the loss of Teresa would be a blow, and he steeled himself for the worst, not only at work, but at home. He couldn't allow his grief at Teresa's death to be seen by his wife as any more than losing a colleague. Maggie had never known it was Teresa with whom he'd had the affair.

The unmistakable hiss of the surgical suite doors swinging open drew his attention as well as that of the two FBI agents, all of them rushing forward to meet Dr. Alonzo Gates who was closely followed by Dr. McIntyre.

Both men walked out with their heads lowered and serious scowls on their faces. Reaching for Dr. Stephens' hand, Gonzo shook it. "Boyd, I hate to see you again under these circumstances. Dr. Rodgers didn't make it."

Boyd was speechless for a moment, barely managing words he didn't really mean. "I see."

"You see?" bit Trapper. "Is that all you've got to say?"

Boyd's mouth dropped open as he searched for some response, but he had none. In the meantime, Gonzo moved his hand behind him to Trapper's chest. "There's no point in fighting about this. It's not going to help. Boyd, you need to have your people take a look at the body. There's some bruising on the left side of her head that looks older than the other bruises on her body."

Stepping forward, with his jacket pulled back and his hands on his hips, Agent Allen asked, "What exactly does that mean?"

Gonzo crossed his arms in front of him and shifted his weight to one foot. "It means that this might not have been an accident. I think she took a blow to the head before she went off the side of the road."

"McIntyre?"

Trapper nodded. "He's right," Agent Allen. "The bruising on her head was already showing orange hues where the bruises that would have been caused by the accident were still reddish brown. Those injuries didn't occur at the same time."

"Doc, I want the autopsy done here at the hospital by someone other than a pathologist on Dr. Stephens' staff." Allen turned to Boyd. "I'm sorry, Dr. Stephens, but at the moment your entire staff is suspect until they aren't. That includes you."

With his hands in his pockets, Boyd simply nodded and turned to walk away. Trapper went after him. "Boyd, this isn't your fault."

"How would you feel about now, John, if your department was falling down around you?"

The corner of Trapper's mouth turned up. "Probably the same. But is this something more than losing a colleague? If it is, you can't let Maggie see this."

Squeezing Trapper's arm, Boyd returned the smile. "Trapper, you're a good friend. The affair was over a long time ago. This is my responsibility in bringing Amit Desai into my department. I hired him. Teresa didn't deserve to die for doing her job."

"You don't know it was Amit."

"Yes, John. I think I do. And I need to discuss this with Agent Allen. Do you mind if we use your office?"

Trapper turned up the hall and called for Agent Allen. "Would you mind coming down to my office? Boyd has something he'd like to discuss regarding Desai."

Allen motioned Savage who was still talking with Gonzo to follow, and they followed Boyd and Trapper to his office.

xxxxxxxx

A man in black slacks and white shirt stepped quietly into the stateroom of a large yacht anchored in international waters off San Francisco. "Sir, Desai is aboard."

"Good. Send him in."

Desai looked at the man who had introduced him, then stepped past him inside the door that closed behind him.

"Since you're here, I assume you cleaned up after yourself?"

"Yes," was the reply in a thick Middle Eastern accent. "There is nothing and no one left."

Nodding, the man said, "Take what medical supplies you have left to the hold and give them to Dr. Badhia. We'll be on our way shortly."

Desai nodded and turned to leave, but the man behind the desk stopped him. "Amit. What of your relatives?"

"I did not return to the house. They know nothing, and do not know that I have gone."

Holding Amit's eyes, the man studied them harshly, waiting for a tick, a flinch, anything that said Desai wasn't sure of himself. There was nothing. Amit Desai had worked for him for many years and had never slipped up. "Tony!" he yelled.

The man who had shown Desai in reappeared. "See Amit to his quarters and make sure he has a meal and clean clothes. Then put him on the work roster."

Nodding, Tony held the door open wide for Amit to pass, then closed the door behind them.

Chuckling, the man behind the desk stood, went to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink. He'd left no loose ends, no body, nothing that could be traced. Still, he'd have to remain in the shadows for a very long time, at least in the United States.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Trapper offered Boyd a cup of coffee, but he turned it down. He didn't even sit, choosing to stand with his hands in his pockets. Everyone waited quietly for what he had to say, and eventually he spoke. "Amit has been with the department for a little over a year. His record is spotless, but I should have known that was too good to be true. Everyone, without exception, makes mistakes. But he didn't. And then when Leah came in, he took over her case when it wasn't his assignment. He traded with one of the other technicians." Boyd chuckled. "He said he did it out of respect for me; that he knew Miss Haverty was the fiancé of a close friend. But now when I think about it, he wouldn't let anyone else near her. We check the status of the bodies in the morgue daily, and he was always the one who checked her. He was the one who prepared her for the autopsy, and he checked in the night before, he said, to make sure everything was done properly." Looking up at Allen, he said, "I went back and looked at the time clock records. He was there late the night before the autopsy. He had time to switch the bodies."

Everyone turned at a knock on the door.

"Come in," said Trapper.

Gloria leaned in. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Shaefer has been waiting all day to see you. He says it's extremely important."

Trapper blew out of his mouth. "Send him in." Looking at those already in his office, he said, "I'm sure this will only take a minute." When Albert stepped in, Trapper held out his hand. "Albert, I'm sorry. It's been an unusual day."

"I was hoping I could discuss something with you...in private. I think it's important considering what's happened."

"If it's about Leah, maybe you should go ahead. This is Agent Allen and Agent Savage from the FBI."

"All right. I still need to discuss the trust with you, but this has nothing to do with that. When you and Leah were in Washington, she left a phone message for me. She said she was at a phone booth, and it seemed she was very distracted...afraid. She asked me to find out where Doug Manning was...and she said if anything happened to her I was to tell you Doug Manning likely had something to do with it."

Trapper's brow creased as he glanced over at Allen, and then back at Shaefer. "Did she say anything else?"

"No, but she didn't seem to feel any better about it when I told her Manning had up and left, and my people couldn't find him. He just disappeared."

"Then why was she worried about him?" asked Agent Allen.

"She said she had publicly humiliated him twice, and he wasn't the kind to just walk away. She was more afraid of him than she'd ever been."

Allen looked at Savage and nodded, prompting Savage to produce the letter they'd found in Angela's safe. "Perhaps it's time we pay attention to this letter," she said, passing the letter to Trapper.

Reading the letter, Trapper took a deep breath and flared his nostrils. "Where did you get this?"

"It was in Angela Bedford's safe."

"And you did nothing? This letter doesn't leave much doubt, does it? Especially now that you've heard what she said to Albert."

"At this point, it doesn't matter, McIntyre," said Agent Allen. "We don't know where Manning is either. We've been looking for him. And that still doesn't explain what he wants with her body." He turned to Savage. "We have to find Desai."

xxxxxxxx

Agents Allen and Savage had been gone for awhile, leaving Boyd and Albert in Trapper's office. Trapper asked both men to sit while he called to arrange for the autopsy of Teresa Rodgers and a follow-up autopsy of Angela Bedford in the hospital's pathology department. He had already gotten the FBI's agreement on the pathologist and called an old friend from the Sacramento medical examiner's office who agreed to drive out. She'd promised to meet him in his office in three hours.

"Boyd, you're welcome to stay for the autopsy. I don't see why Allen would care if you observed."

Shaking his head, Boyd stood and headed for the door. "No, John, I think I'll pass on this one."

"Where will you be?"

"Home. I need to talk to Maggie."

Nodding, Trapper offered a crooked, understanding smile. "Call me if you need anything."

Boyd pushed his bottom lip up and nodded as he left the office.

Taking a deep breath, Trapper switched gears. "Albert, what else is there we need to discuss?"

Crossing his legs, Albert thought before he began. "I'm in an odd predicament, Dr. McIntyre. You see, Leah left everything to you with some stipulations."

Trapper spread his hand across his forehead and rubbed his temples, then looked back up, giving Albert his full attention.

"She wanted you to oversee the construction of the children's wing, using whatever cash there is in the estate to build it. The money she's recently come in to from the Manning settlement and the logging company settlement was still in cash upon her death. We hadn't had time to invest it. But besides that, there's a good deal of money in investments, the house in Los Angeles which has a sale pending, the two homes at Lake Tahoe, and all her personal belongings including what she has in storage. Have you seen the list from her storage unit?"

Trapper smiled. "No, I haven't. I assumed it was furniture and accessories from the house."

"Some of it is, but there's quite a bit of art; paintings, carvings, glass...you name it."

"You said something about an odd predicament?"

"Legally, it all belongs to you. Leah has been declared dead, and a death certificate has been issued. But now with the body stolen, I have a reasonable doubt that she is."

Clasping his hands on his desk, Trapper leaned forward. "Albert, there are too many medical personnel who agreed she was dead. I don't see how all of us could have been mistaken."

"I agree with you, Dr. McIntyre." Albert smiled. "You see my predicament. You are the sole heir. She didn't leave anything to any organization, but rather the request that you see to the distribution that I hope she discussed with you. I need your permission to delay the disbursement of the estate until the investigation is complete...or a reasonable amount of time passes with no indication that she's alive."

"I will agree to delay any disbursements to me. But she'd already started the ball rolling on the children's wing, and I'd like that to continue. I don't see that expenses will necessarily be that high in the beginning until I've done some interviews with some architectural firms, get conceptual drawings and then present them to the board for approval. That could take months."

Smiling, Albert nodded. "Not that I didn't already know, but I'm glad you have Leah's interests at the forefront. She had already asked for recommendations for some architectural firms." Leaning forward, he passed a list to Trapper. "I was going to recommend she start with these, but it's your choice now."

"Albert, I want you to continue to handle her finances as if she was still alive. The house in Tahoe should continue to be rented, and the storage here in San Francisco should continue as well. I'll leave the sale of the Los Angeles house to you, and you can do with the proceeds whatever you would have done for Leah." Trapper shook his head as he leaned way back in his chair, moving a hand to his chin and running it over his beard. "I have to admit. I'm at a loss for why anyone would want her body. But now that Doug Manning is probably involved, I can easily see why he'd be interested in her brain, and for that to do him any good, she'd have to be alive."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Quietly, Mary Ann Casey stepped in the door and stood there, wondering why, under the circumstances, she had agreed to come to San Francisco. He was a good friend. He had been more than a friend in the past, and truthfully, she had wanted that something more to continue. But he couldn't...or wouldn't commit. And then she'd read in the newspaper that he'd found the woman to whom he could commit...and then lost her.

Now as he sat in his chair behind his desk, his back to her as he stared out the window, she wondered what he was thinking. Was he consumed by his loss, or was he looking for a way to change it, to fix it? Smiling, she knew he was not drowning in his sorrow. That just wasn't John McIntyre. She was there to perform a second autopsy on the body of an Angela Bedford. But was she there for something more?

"I don't think you can change the world by staring out at it like that?"

Trapper raised up and swung around in his chair in one smooth motion wearing a pleased smile on his face. "Mary Ann," he said, rising from behind his desk and moving to take her hands. When he kissed them, he lingered with his eyes closed, knowing this request might be difficult for her. "I was actually a little surprised you agreed to do this."

She exhaled. "Oh, Trapper. I read the newspaper. I know what's happened. How could I stay away if I can help?"

Standing with his arms around her, he asked, "Have you had dinner?"

Moving her arms around his neck, she answered, "No, but then I'm not that hungry."

"Neither am I, but we have to eat. Doctor's orders." Taking her arms from around his neck, he held her hand as they walked out of his office on their way to a light dinner at an all night deli.

Sharing a chicken salad sandwich and a bag of chips, the two had a difficult time with small talk until Mary Ann broke the ice. "She must have been very special. It seems things went very fast."

"Well, it surprised a lot of people at first, but then everyone seemed to know before we did." He chuckled. "When Leah first came here, we were constantly at each other's throats. And she was fine with that. She thrived on it. But that was just the way she dealt with...or rather didn't deal with...pain."

"There was a fairly comprehensive article about her in the _Bee._ After what she had been through, this..." She bowed her head. "Life isn't always fair."

Trapper pursed his lips and nodded.

"Tell me about Angela Bedford. Why her?"

"She and Leah were friends long before we went to Washington. I don't think anyone knows why she was killed, and I don't think it was just to use her to steal Leah's body. We found out tonight that Leah's former boss may have had something to do with this, but as far as I know, there's no connection to Angela, other than Angela was our grant writer, and Doug Manning was the technical consultant until he wasn't."

"What do you mean until he wasn't?"

"He was excused because of a conflict of interest. He sued Leah when she left Manning Consulting. She countersued, and he lost. But that had nothing to do with Angela."

"So what do you want me to look for?"

"Leah had been trying for several weeks to contact Angela. She filled up Angela's answering machine, so I have good reason to believe Angela was taken and kept alive. They waited to kill her. The first autopsy determined she hadn't been dead more than eight hours and found sea water in her lungs. I think who ever took Angela was waiting for the right opportunity to take Leah, and then throw everyone off track until they could get away by swapping the bodies."

"You didn't find out about the switch until the funeral. I understand Leah was a heart transplant patient. Why didn't the pathologist find that?"

"She may have. Some of her notes from the autopsy are missing, and she's been killed. So unless the FBI can find notes in her desk, the tapes from the autopsy or something in her home, we may never know."

Taking the last potato chip, Mary Ann thought for a moment before she put it in her mouth. Crunching the chip, she looked back up at Trapper. "Is there something specific you want me to look for?"

"Yes, but I don't know what exactly to tell you," said Trapper, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs and dropping his arm over the back. "Look for anything unusual in the blood. You should have access to some of the blood they removed from Angela's body when she was embalmed. I'm going to see if they have any of Leah's blood in the morgue."

"You want me to look for similarities."

"Yes, if I can get a sample of Leah's blood. Whoever switched the bodies has, so far, cleaned up very well after himself. There may not be any left."

Mary Ann took a deep breath. "I'll get started first thing in the morning."

"Good. Did you rent a car?"

"No, I took a cab to the hospital."

Trapper stood and offered his hand. "Then I'll take you to your hotel. Where are you staying?"

Turning, she stepped into him and looked coyly into his eyes. "I didn't book a hotel. I thought I might be staying with a...friend."

Trapper smiled. "Mary Ann..."

"Trapper, I understand your heart still belongs to Leah. But while all this gets figured out, there's no point in you being alone in your misery." Trapper clamped his mouth shut and looked away. "Don't they say misery loves company?"

"You can stay in the guest room," he said, walking to the door of the deli and holding it open for her. "And you'd better _stay_ in the guest room."

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Agents Allen and Savage drove to Amit Desai's last address, a small house in a rundown area near The Haight. Agent Allen had called for a forensic unit, and they were already there removing items from the house while a woman apparently of Middle Eastern descent ran back and forth beside them yelling in a foreign language and grabbing at everything that had been bagged and removed.

Allen walked up to the head of the forensic team. "Find anything solid yet?"

"We found a couple of empty medical vials in the bathroom trash; no label, some of the suspects clothes, a backpack, and a notebook that had been written on. We don't have the piece of paper with the writing, but we do have the page with the imprint. That's about all there is. Whoever this guy was, he's covered his tracks pretty well. The family here didn't even know he was missing. Seems he just up and left without telling anyone."

Allen scratched his head. "Look for a connection between Desai a man named Doug Manning."

The forensic detective took out a notebook and wrote down the name. "What's his story?"

"He was Miss Haverty's boss at Manning Consulting. He disappeared, too, only he managed to sell a business and several homes without being noticed. We haven't been able to find him."

While Agent Allen spoke with the forensics detective, Agent Savage turned and walked back to the car. She had remained quiet and listened. Her only interest in Haverty was her connection to Bedford's disappearance, and the most she would find out about Bedford would come from the autopsy. Allen was going through the motions and finding dead ends. Maybe it was time to start from the beginning. She yelled back across the road to Allen. "I'm going back to the hotel. I'll see you tomorrow at the hospital."

Allen gave her a quick nod and watched her call a cab. She'd not offered any help with this case other than the letter that had been found in Angela's safe. As far as he was concerned, she was dead weight and was happy to see her gone.

Agent Tamara Savage was far from dead weight. She'd been decorated several times in her career and had been given special commendation for taking a bullet for a former partner. But this was not her city, and Agent Allen had an advantage in that he already knew one of the two women in question here. Tonight, she would learn this city; its good, its bad and its worse. The first place she would start was the beach where the Bedford case seemed to finally move forward; the scene of the drowning of Miss Haverty.

Dropping by her hotel to change out of her suit, she donned jeans and a sweater, and after pulling on her tennis shoes, she went back down to the waiting cab and asked for the nearest rental car lot. Happy to have her own transportation rather than being Allen's sidekick, she drove to China Beach, parked at the top of the cliff and walked down the long flight of steps to waves crashing on the sand below. It was late, but the moon offered enough light to see the beach, the ocean, and the houses that lined the cliff above clearly.

She stood motionless, listening to all the sounds around her; the gentle rolling of the waves onto shore, the plaintive cries of the seabirds...a distant fog horn, music coming from one of the homes behind her. Turning her head so that her ear was toward the ocean, she heard faint voices, and peering into the inky darkness, she was able to make out a darkened ship drifting in and out of a fog bank that had stalled offshore.

"Damn foreigners!"

She jumped and turned around, her hand instinctively moving to the gun she carried at the waist of her jeans.

"Pardon me, ma'am. Didn't mean to scare you. It's just I see you noticed that ship out in the water there. It's those damn foreigners. They come up here on a boat, swim to shore and sneak into the city for an all-nighter, then swim back to their boat the next morning."

"Wouldn't the coast guard find the boat?"

"No. The boat leaves and comes back. There's so many boats that come and go through the Golden Gate, no one really pays attention to the ones that come and go. Just the ones that stay."

"You come out here often?"

"Every night. I live right up there," he said, pointing to the homes on the cliff. "Third one from the end."

Tamara kept her eyes on the boat as she spoke. "Anything bad...other than the foreigners...ever happen on this beach. I was thinking about bringing my kid out here some time."

"Well, it's pretty hard to get to. You gotta come down all those stairs from up top. Still, on the weekends it's pretty crowded. Not so much during the week. 'Cept, there was girl found drowned here...oh...about a week ago."

"Drowned?"

"Yeah. She'd been coming down here for awhile to swim every morning. She'd go about twenty feet out and then swim up and back a couple of times." He turned toward the homes on the cliff. "You see that little house there? The one kinda hanging on the cliff?" Tamara nodded. "She lived there."

"So you watched her swim?"

"Every morning. Real early-like."

"What about the day she drowned?"

"Yeah, I saw her go into the water."

"Was there anyone else here? Or maybe a boat out there?"

The man frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. "How come you asking? You a cop?"

"Not exactly. But I'm trying to find out if she drowned or if she was killed."

"Why would you think she was killed?"

"Because according to her fiancé, she was an excellent swimmer. He doesn't believe she drowned."

"I saw those two together a couple of times. Nice looking couple. He was some big surgeon at one of the hospitals in town."

"Did you see anyone else on the beach that day?"

Scratching his chin, the man quietly answered, "Yeah, there was someone on the beach. A man...young, with dark curly hair was out here early, sitting on the beach. He was wearing a wet suit, so I assumed he'd been in. He said something to her. I know because she smiled at him, and then went right on in. After she swam a lap or two, he went back in, too. I didn't see either one of them come out, but then I had gone into the house for awhile. When I came back out to the deck, that's when the police first arrived, and her body was up on shore."

"The young man?"

"Oh, he wasn't anywhere to be seen."

"Do you remember if there was a boat out there that day?"

"Yeah, there was. One of those real fancy yachts was sitting out there when she first went in, but it was gone by the time I came back out."

Tamara held out her hand, and when he took it, she slipped him a card. "If you remember anything else from that morning, Mr.?"

"Simmons. Fred Simmons."

"Mr. Simmons, would you call me at the number on that card?"

"You said you wasn't a cop?"

"I'm not. I'm with the FBI. Have a nice day, Mr. Simmons."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Trapper was on the phone to the morgue even before first light. Mary Ann had asked to go in early to set up for the autopsy, so they rode in together.

"Boyd, you're in early."

"What's your excuse?"

Trapper chuckled. "Dr. Casey is here to do the autopsy. I know you wanted to watch, but I was hoping I could catch you before you came to the hospital. Do you know if the initial blood samples for Leah are still there?"

"As far as I know, the samples left with the body."

"Damn!" Trapper turned his head and thought for a moment. "Can you check to see if, maybe, they missed any. We also need some of Angela's blood."

"I can understand Angela's fluids, but Leah's? What are you up to?"

"I'll fill you in when you get here."

"All right, I'll check and come on over."

Trapper hung up the phone, and then scratched his head. He knew he was grasping at straws, but if anything unusual showed up in Angela's blood and was also in Leah's blood, that could mean... What? He already knew the appearance of Angela's body and the disappearance of Leah's was connected.

Leaving his office for the hospital morgue, Trapper stopped by the nurse's desk with instructions to send Dr. Stephens down as soon as he arrived. Slipping quietly into an observing room, Trapper sat down and watched as Mary Ann looked over the body. She hadn't looked up, but somehow knew he was there. "I don't know what you expect me to find in an embalmed body. The embalming fluid would have killed anything bacterial. It also does a pretty good job at scrubbing vessels and organs."

"Boyd Stephens is on his way. If there are blood samples left at the morgue he's going to bring them."

"All right," she said, pulling on her gloves. "Let's see if there's anything else left to find. I'm going to open up the original incisions, but first," she said, turning the body on its side with the help of an assistant, let's see if there's any lacerations or bruises left." She laughed. "A bruise needs blood."

"If it was severe enough, the embalming fluid may not have replaced it all," offered Trapper.

Without responding, she continued to go over Angela's body, inch by inch. "It looks like she was bound. There are contusions on her ankles and wrists. There's a tear on the back of her neck, like someone snatched a necklace off her." Lifting the arms, Mary Ann looked closely at one of the hands. "She has a broken finger, and some scrapes on her knuckles. Looks recent." Laying the arm gently on the table, Mary Ann turned to Trapper. "My first inclination would be that she fought her captors."

"She would. She wasn't timid."

Reading the file on the table beside her, Mary Ann sighed. "The record says she drowned in sea water. I won't be able to confirm that. Rather than opening her up again, it would probably be wiser to wait for the blood. I don't think I'm going to find anything significant from her organs or internal tissues because of cellular changes due to the embalming fluid. I can't even fix the time of death." She lifted the hand again. "But I'm going to take fingernail samples. I may be able to tell if they were cleaned."

"What would that tell you?" asked Trapper from beyond the glass in the observation room.

Mary Ann studied Angela's fingernails underneath the magnifying light. "The fingernails wouldn't be affected by the embalming fluid. If she fought and there had been skin or blood under her fingernails, there could still be trace amounts unless her attacker cleaned them with chemicals. If they simply scraped her fingernails, I might find something."

Trapper quickly turned toward Boyd's voice at the door. "That would be good. But matching a blood or skin sample isn't going to do us any good if we don't have someone in custody who has some fairly recent scratches."

"Did you find any blood samples?" asked Trapper.

"None for Leah. The refrigerator where the samples were kept were emptied of Angela's fluids, however I think Teresa was more suspicious than we thought. I found a tray of samples in her mini-fridge in her office. Whoever swapped the bodies missed them."

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Sitting behind his desk, Trapper thought about the test results on the paper in front of him. "Sodium thiopental."

Mary Ann looked across at Boyd who was sitting in the chair next to her at the front of Trapper's desk. "I don't know how long it had been in her bloodstream, but I don't think it started out as large dose. Which means it was only meant to disable her for a short time."

Trapper smiled rather sadly. "Enough time to drown her? At least she didn't know she was drowning."

"My guess would be they did that to keep things quiet...so they wouldn't be noticed," said Boyd.

Raising his head at a quick knock on the door, Trapper opened his mouth to answer, then bit the inside of his cheek when Agents Allen and Savage entered without an invitation.

Seeing Trapper's less than welcoming expression, Allen said, "We have more information about Leah," hoping that would move them forward without a lesson in manners. Looking down at the woman in the chair he didn't recognize, he asked rather gruffly, "Who's this?"

Shaking his head, Trapper motioned to the sofa. "This is Dr. Casey, the pathologist assigned to re-autopsy Angela Bedford."

"And has it been done?"

Mary Ann gave Allen a sour look. "Nice to meet you, too. Yes, what could be done has been done."

Agent Allen sat forward on the sofa. "What do you mean what could be done?"

Turning in her chair to face him, Mary Ann rolled her eyes. "The body had been embalmed, Agent."

"Your point?"

Agent Savage glanced over at him and shook her head. "It means there's not much left to find internally. You probably didn't even open her up, did you?" Tamara asked, looking back at Mary Ann, who shook her head. "So what did you find?"

"She had been bound either tightly, or for a long period of time, or both based on contusions on her ankles and wrists. And Dr. Stephens found a sample of her fluids at the morgue. She had been given sodium pentothal close to the time of her drowning." Turning forward in her chair, she looked at Trapper. "We were just discussing that."

Tamara stood and leaned against the bathroom door. "To subdue her before they drowned her?"

The looks on the faces of the three doctors answered the question.

"Dr. McIntyre, I went back to the beach where Miss Haverty's body was found and met a man who lives up on the cliff. He says there was a man on the beach that morning who spoke to Leah. He followed her into the water. There was also a boat anchored off shore. This man left his balcony, and when he returned, the police were already there with Leah's body, and the man on the beach and the boat were gone. You don't suppose he could have used sodium pentothal on her as well, do you? And maybe swam to the boat?"

Tamara's story hit Trapper like a ton of bricks. Yes, he had thought of Leah being drugged, but only vaguely. He had known she was dead. He bowed his head and closed his eyes as he tried to organize his thoughts...actually more like gathering his thoughts since his head was spinning. "Anything is possible, Agent Savage," he answered solemnly. "I suppose he could have given her a shot of thiopental. A large dose of it would kill her, but it doesn't make much sense. Taking fluid samples is one of the first things done when the body gets to the morgue. It would have been found."

"Who would have done that?" asked Allen.

Boyd shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Amit was on duty. He'd have collected all the samples and stored them for the pathologist."

"She was dead," said Trapper angrily. "If all they wanted to do was kill her, why steal her body?"

Looking at Trapper, Boyd and Mary Ann said in unison. "Because she wasn't dead."

"Precisely," said Trapper. It was time to figure out what had been nagging at him all this time...what he was missing.

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A man stood in a doorway, causing a long dark slice in the light that streamed in behind him. The room was dark and cool, but whirred with the noise of the machines surrounding the head of a long, narrow table.

"Why is this taking so long?" asked the man in the doorway.

"It takes as long as it takes. We've never used that combination before."

"Isn't there anything you can do to speed it up?"

Taking a deep breath, the doctor turned away from his patient and addressed the man in the doorway. "If we go too fast, there could be irreparable damage to the brain, which is what you're interested in, right? The other might give out as well." He turned back. "No, we proceed as we are. It's the surest path."

The man at the doorway turned and started up the companionway, departing with a warning. "It had better be. Your life depends on it."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

It was after midnight and Trapper's office light was still on. The cleaning people would have already come and gone, and they'd be sure to turn the light out when they were finished cleaning, so to Ernie, that meant the good doctor was still there.

She quietly turned the knob, opening the door and peering in, expecting to find him sound asleep on his sofa as she had for several nights since Leah's...Angela's funeral. She was surprised to find him leaning back in his desk chair, one leg crossed over the other, and a large book in his hands. He was so absorbed in his reading, he didn't hear her enter, nor did he notice her standing there with her arms crossed and tapping one foot on the carpet.

She cleared her throat.

Looking up, he smiled, and then resumed his reading.

"Trapper, can't it wait?"

"No."

"Why not? Is anything going to change?"

He looked back up. "It already has. I'm just trying to figure out how Manning managed it."

Creasing her brow and letting her hands drop to her sides, Ernie leaned slightly forward. "What do you mean it already has?"

"She's alive, Ernie. I guess deep down, I knew it. She just didn't feel...gone."

Ernie tilted her head and regarded him, trying to figure out if she should go along with this or if she should just call David Sandler.

Trapper looked up at her and smiled. "She's alive, Ernie. Dr. Stephens and Dr. Casey both agree. Mary Ann found sodium thiopental in Angela's blood."

"Angela's. Not Leah's."

"Leah's fluid samples were taken with her body. But yes, Agent Savage found a witness who had seen Leah and another man on the beach the day she supposedly drowned. He saw Leah enter the water and saw the man follow her in. He lives on the cliff and left his balcony, and when he went back out, the police were already there with Leah's body, and the man who had been on the beach was gone. There was a boat anchored off shore. It was gone, too. And there's some evidence that Doug Manning might be involved, and he'd want to use her. He'd need her alive to do that."

"Why not just take her and disappear? Why try to fool everyone into thinking she was dead?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Ernie, they almost got away with it. If it hadn't been for this witness, the letter Leah left behind and the call she made to Shaefer, I don't think the FBI would continue to actively investigate this case. It was a dead end."

"Trapper, how could so many people be wrong? You yourself saw her. You _knew_ she was dead. You mourned her."

Looking over the books strewn across his desk, he patted the book in his lap. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

Reaching for one of the books, Ernie read the title, " _Pharmacodynamics_?" She picked up another. " _Pharmacokinetics_? What are you looking for?"

"Some cocktail that would make it look like she was dead; one that could fool the instruments and create the normal physiological signs."

She slowly lowered her head, but held his eyes, raising her eyebrows.

Trapper ignored her skepticism. "Whoever handled her in the morgue would have had to give her cyclosporine for her heart, so whoever orchestrated this knew her medical history."

"Do you realize how incredible this sounds? Aren't you worried Arnold is going to think you've had a psychotic break?"

Smiling condescendingly, Trapper answered, "I don't think anyone will believe that two FBI agents and three doctors all with the same conclusion are nuts."

Looking away, she took a deep breath. "Are you going to try to get some sleep tonight?"

Trapper had already gone back to his book. "Probably not. Good night, Ernie."

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Darren Allen swung around in his chair. His desk was directly in front of the desk that had been assigned to Tamara Savage. "What are you doing now?"

"I'm checking to see if there's a boat registered to Doug Manning out of San Francisco. And if I don't find one in San Francisco, I'm going to check every port on the west coast."

"And if you find one?"

"I'll alert the Coast Guard to look for it." When Allen shook his head, Tamara looked up and squinted at him. "What I've done is just good investigating. Why haven't you done any of this?"

Leaning forward, Allen looked around him, and when he saw there was no one close, he said in a low voice, "Because I've been ordered not to dig too deep; to go through the motions."

Tamara's brows went up. "When were you told that?"

"The minute Doug Manning's name came up."

"CIA?"

"Probably."

"So this is bigger than my murder and your missing body?"

Allen nodded.

"Well, I haven't been told that, and I'm not quitting, even if they do tell me that. Have you ever had the pleasure of running into the CIA?" Shaking his head, Allen shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, I have. And they tend to work for decades sometimes to nail the big guy and leave all the little guys and the collateral damage unanswered. I'm not willing to do that." She set the phone down. "Who gave you that order?"

He nodded toward his director's office.

"Has this happened before?"

Allen rolled his eyes. "All the time. San Francisco is a port city, in case you hadn't noticed. There's a lot of contraband coming through here, and the CIA knows about more of it than they should."

"Darren, listen to me. I don't care if the CIA is interested in Doug Manning. My only concern is bringing the person or persons responsible for Angela Bedford's death to justice. And if Doug Manning is responsible, I'm going to nail him. I have a feeling when we do that, we're going to find your missing body. There are times when you nod at your director, and do your job anyway. And if you're willing to do that, fine, but if you're not, then I'll be working on my own. You have about one minute to declare yourself one way or the other."

"And if I don't?"

Standing up from the desk, Tamara collected her notes and looked at her watch. "You won't see me again."

Allen stroked his forehead with his fingers.

"Didn't you know this woman? How could you just walk away from it?"

Folding his lips into a tight line, he cursed under his breath and stood. "I can't. But we can't work here. We've got to have a base somewhere else."

"Do you think McIntyre will help? He's the one with the most to gain."

"Well," said Agent Allen, heading for the elevator. "There's only one way to find out."

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"Hey, Pop. Gee, you look like you did an all-nighter," said Trapper's son, JT, as he sat down at the same table as his father in the hospital cafeteria.

"Hello, JT. Nice to see you, too."

"Dad, I'm serious. You look terrible. Are you all right?"

Setting his book aside, Trapper looked down at his untouched plate of breakfast and smiled. "I've been doing some drug research."

Reaching across the table, JT took the biscuit from Trapper's plate. As Trapper slid the small packs of butter and syrup over, JT asked, "Why the interest in drugs? You usually prescribe the approved stuff, don't you?"

"JT, why are you here? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"I'm done for the day. I haven't seen or heard from you since the day of the funeral." He looked up and smiled at his father. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

Trapper snorted. "I don't think Leah is dead."

Suddenly halting his mastication, JT sat for a moment with his mouth full before he finished chewing. He had no idea what to say. Was his father serious? Was he nuts? "Why would you say that, Dad?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but I'm not the only one who thinks that. The two FBI agents working on the case, the medical examiner, and the doctor who did the second autopsy on Angela Bedford all agree. Leah's death was a ruse. And I'm looking for a combination of drugs that would have convinced all of us she was dead."

JT resumed his biscuit breakfast. "Even if you find one, you don't know who would have done it."

"Yes, I do."

"Then why not just look for him...her?" he asked, shrugging.

"The FBI is looking for him, but he's seems to have completely disappeared."

Watching his father push the food on his plate around, JT thought about taking a strip of the bacon, but knew with the way his father felt about bacon, and this bacon looked particularly crispy, he might just draw back a broken arm. "Uh, Pop, if I can find you someone who could tell you about drug concoctions, can I have your bacon?"

Trapper's head snapped up. "Who?"

"A guy I know at school. Apparently, he's a career student. He's been there for ages. He keeps getting grants from pharmaceutical companies because of the research he does finding new side effects for old drugs. Well, he doesn't call them side effects, but that's what they are."

"What does he call them?"

"New uses."

Trapper slid his plate across the table. "We're leaving as soon as you finish that."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"Can I help you?" asked the man behind the counter of a nondescript pawn shop in a busy part of the city where the upper class would never be seen, but those hovering on the edge of poverty or success might be drawn to add just a bit more green to their pockets.

The incoming patron laid a gold chain and diamond ring on the glass-top counter. "How much?"

The shop owner took out his loupe, looking for the weight mark on the band and chain, then turning his attention to the single diamond gracing the band. "That depends. Where'd you get it?"

"From a girl who didn't want it anymore. As payment for a debt."

The man behind the counter eyed his customer suspiciously. "Did you steal it?"

Looking the owner in the eye, the customer said, "No. She left the relationship and didn't want it...or need it anymore, and she owed me." Turning his head, he added quietly, "She's owed me for years." Looking back to the proprietor, he said, "She's just now had something to pay me back with."

"I'll tell you what," said the owner, bending down with his elbows propped on the counter, hovering over the jewelry he'd just examined. "The gold isn't worth much." He waved around him. "I've got gold coming outta my ears. But this diamond is a real nice diamond. I'll give you five hundred for the diamond and the gold. If that's not good enough, you can keep the gold. It's five hundred for the diamond."

"It's worth five times that."

"At least. But look at the price tags of the diamonds around you, friend. People don't come into a pawn shop expecting to pay top dollar. They come here for deals."

"I want cash."

"Then I'll need a name to go with the diamond. It's the law." Leaning forward, he said quietly, "But...ah...the law doesn't say I have to ask for ID, so just give me a name."

"Mark Hansen."

The owner peeled five one hundred dollar bills off a wad of cash in his pocket and laid them one at a time in the seller's hand. "Thanks, for your business, Mr. Hansen."

Shoving the money in his pocket, Mr. Hansen disappeared out the door and down the sidewalk.

The owner waited until his latest customer was out of sight before he picked up his phone, hearing the answering service he expected. "Yeah, I got a message for Tamara Savage. This is Lou at the Cash for Goods Pawn. I think I might have something you want to see." Hanging up the phone, he picked the chain and ring up off the counter, put it in an envelope, and then locked it in his safe.

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Trapper took a deep, testy breath at the traffic sitting still in front of him. He looked in the rearview mirror at the same mess.

"Pa, I had an extra helmet. We should have taken the bike," said JT, rolling down his window and stretching out as far as he could to see what was holding them up.

"I've seen you drive your motorcycle, JT. I'm not about to ride on the back." Checking his watch, he added, "I just hope the hospital doesn't page me," then thought to himself that they had been leaving him alone for the most part lately. Even that aggravated him. Lucky for him, he was in the outside lane of a city street where parking on the curb was permitted. When the car parked in front of him put on his turn signal to come out, Trapper let him out and pulled his RX-7 right into the space, and then adjusted the car to get closer to the curb.

"What are you doing, Dad? Now we'll never get out."

"We're getting out all right. Lock the door before you close it," said Trapper, easing the car door open and stepping out.

JT hesitated, but realizing his father was serious, he followed suit. He had to run to catch up. Trapper was already twenty feet up the sidewalk. "Pop, we can't walk all the way to the university. It'll take hours."

"We're walking far enough to get away from this traffic jam, and then we'll get a cab. By the time we finish speaking with your friend, this mess should be cleared. We'll take a cab back to the car."

They walked five blocks before they arrived at the scene of the accident that caused the delay, and though there were injuries, Trapper continued on down the block. JT, on the other hand, stopped walking. Looking at his father's back as he opened his mouth while pointing toward the tangled hunk of metal in the intersection, he thought he'd never see his father walk away when his expertise might be needed. He looked at the accident one more time before he closed his mouth and ran to catch up.

"Dad, that looked pretty bad back there."

Trapper slowed his stride, and eventually stopped, taking another deep breath as he looked up at the sky and moved his hands to his hips. JT was right to question. He couldn't ignore that accident. Gently, hitting JT's chest with the back of his hand, he said, "You're right. Let's go. But stay out of the way."

For the first few minutes, JT did as his father asked and stayed behind the yellow tape the police had strung for crowd control. His father had gotten into one of the cars, and had been there for some time before he emerged and called for the ambulance attendants to take the driver out.

When the driver was on the gurney, the attendants stepped to the ends, allowing JT to see the victim's face. "Oh no," he muttered as he dipped under the yellow tape and ran toward the scene. He didn't get far before a police officer stopped him. "Wait, that's my dad," he said in his defense.

"Come on, kid. That guy's too young to be your dad. Now get back behind the tape."

"No, not that guy. That guy," he said, pointing at Trapper walking with the gurney toward the ambulance. The guy from the wreck. That's the guy my dad was on his way to see, but he doesn't know it."

The officer rolled his eyes and grabbed JT by the collar and dragged him toward the gurney. "Doc, do you know this kid?"

Trapper looked at JT up on his tiptoes, and then back at the officer. "I do, but even if I didn't, you don't have to yank on him like he's a criminal. Let him go."

"Doc, he's still got no business back here."

"Dad, I just need to tell you. This is Hershel," he said, pointing to the young man on the gurney. "He's the guy you were going to see."

Turning to the attendant who was now loading the gurney into the ambulance, Trapper asked, "Do you have an ID on this man?"

"Yeah. A Hershel Maddox. You know him?"

"No. Not yet. I'm riding with you. We're going to San Francisco Memorial." Taking the car keys out of his pocket, Trapper tossed them to JT.

"JT, drive the car back to the hospital." He turned to step up into the ambulance, but stopped and turned back, giving JT a wide-eyed glare. "Don't. Wreck. My. Car."

JT returned a sheepish smirk. "I won't wreck your car, Pop."

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"I don't see why we have to go into every pawn shop in town," said Agent Allen.

Tamara veered over to a bench shaded by a tree in an area where the sidewalk had been expanded to allow for benches, planters, and trees. "Dr. McIntyre said he gave her an engagement ring, and had put it on her finger the night before she was found. The inventory records at the morgue didn't list the ring."

Allen crossed his arms, looking bored. "She probably wouldn't have worn it when she swam."

"That's true. But you and I both had a look at her place. I didn't see that ring anywhere, so I went back to look for it. I found some pretty pricey jewelry, but I turned that place upside down and didn't find her ring."

"So you're thinking someone knew about the ring, and went there to get it when they heard she was dead?"

"It's possible."

"Other than to steal it for money, why would anyone do that? And why would we care? It's not something we should waste our time on besides it being a long shot."

"Long shots are all we have at the moment. And if they were interested in money, there was a lot more valuable stuff in that pool house. Why would someone take the ring unless it meant something?"

"I thought we were going to see McIntyre."

She winced. "He wasn't in when I called, so I thought we'd kill some time looking for the ring," she said as she moved her hand down to her pager that had just beeped. "I've got a message. I need to find a phone," she said, looking around.

Darren pointed, and both walked across the street to a phone booth, and while Darren waited outside, Tamara called her service. She pushed the folding door open with a smile. "We've got a bite. Three blocks over."

When the two FBI agents walked into the pawn shop, the owner rushed past them, pulling the blind down on the door and flipping the closed sign outward after which he locked the door.

"Is there a problem?" asked Tamara, scowling.

"I don't want anyone to see two cops come in here," said the owner.

"We're not cops," said Allen.

"Then you're somthin' worse. I can smell you a mile away. Now, let's get on with it, so I can open back up. You two can leave through the back."

The agents looked at each other and shrugged. "You called me," said Tamara.

"Yeah, that's right. I run an honest business, so when cops come snooping around looking for specific things, I tend to oblige. You were looking for a ring. We'll, I've got a ring on a chain. I got a lot of rings like this one; a gold band solitaire, but not this big. Not this fine, either. But it wadn't the ring that made me think about you. It was the guy who brought it in."

Both agents stepped up to the counter while the owner bent down to retrieve the envelope from his safe. "What about this guy made him different?"

"Nothing that he looked like. He looked like every other vagrant comin' in here for some quick cash. Most of 'em bring in stolen junk. But this guy brought in this ring with a story that the woman who owned it didn't want it anymore. Then he said, she didn't _need_ it and that she owed him. Most of 'em just admit they stole it. No, there was somethin' about this guy. Clean cut. Clean shaven. Didn't stink. Like he hadn't been a bum very long."

"Did you get a name?"

"Of course I got a name, but don't you figure he'd give me a bogus name?"

"What name?" asked Allen impatiently.

"Just a minute. I'll look," said the man, digging through a stack of note paper. "Mark Hansen."

Tamara pulled her notepad out to write it down, but Darren stopped her. "No need to write it down."

"You recognize the name?"

"Yeah. Mark Hansen, if that's really who the guy is, used to work for Manning Consulting under Leah Haverty at the hospital."

Raising her brows, she said, "Interesting," before she turned to the owner of the pawn shop. "We'll need that chain and ring."

"Now just wait a minute," the man said defiantly. "I paid five hundred dollars for that ring."

Darren leaned over the counter and spoke in a low, but threatening voice, "You give us the ring, or we go downtown and pull your license for receiving stolen property."

The man scowled and threw the envelope containing the chain and ring on the counter. Darren picked it up, put it in his inside jacket pocket, and the two agents left out the back door.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Trapper waited until the gurney was pulled out of the ambulance before he stepped out and headed into the hospital behind it. Answering Stanley's surprised look before he got the first word out, Trapper said, "I stopped at the accident scene. What room?"

Stanley gave him a flat look. "Four," he said, falling in step with Trapper.

"You look disappointed, Stan."

"It's been a slow day. What have you got?"

"Nothing major. A few lacerations. Broken arm."

Dr. Riverside stopped and put his hand flat on the door, blocking Trapper's way. "Then why did you ride in the ambulance with him?"

"Because I need to talk to him," answered Trapper, pushing Stanley's arm out of his way.

"Hershel Maddox, Dr. Riverside," said Trapper, introducing patient to doctor. "Now, what I was saying in the ambulance; my son, JT, said you have some knowledge about pharmaceuticals. I'm looking for a combination that will make someone look dead, physiologically and electronically."

"Excuse me, John. I need to get that arm immobilized."

Shifting to the other side of the table, Trapper continued. "Could have been mixed with sodium thiopental."

"Well, I've not tried it myself, but I've heard there's a lot of interest in something like that on the black market. But I don't know anyone who's succeeded in producing a stable version."

"There's a paycheck in it for you if you can figure it out."

Standing back, Stanley creased his brow. "John, that's illegal." Sheepishly, he added, "Isn't it?"

At this point Hershel wasn't paying any attention to Dr. Riverside's examination of his arm. "How much?"

"What do you normally get paid?"

"It varies. Anywhere from a thousand to five thousand, depending on the research."

"How does ten sound?"

"Interesting," said Hershel, sitting up and pulling his arm away from Stanley.

"Now see here, John. This man has a broken arm." Grabbing Hershel by the chin and turning his head, Stanley added, "And some cuts that need attention."

"I'll tell you what," said Trapper, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning against the table. "When you're finished here, ask the nurse to bring you up to my office. We'll talk." Trapper nodded to the nurse before he left the exam room and went straight to his office without stopping at the nurse's station to say hello to Gloria or Ernie.

They gave each other a worried look. "He's up to something," said Ernie.

"He came in with the guy in exam four. You don't suppose he has anything to do with it, do you?" asked Gloria, looking down the hall toward the exam room.

Ernie shrugged. "I've stopped trying to figure out what he's going to do next. I just hope he pulls himself together before the board decides they need another Chief of Surgery."

When Trapper arrived in his office, the first thing he did was pour himself a cup of coffee, put spoon after spoon of sugar in it, and then walk to this desk while he stirred, sitting down and setting the coffee aside. He picked up the pad of paper on which he'd written notes from the books still haphazardly spread across his desk. Sodium thiopental would have immediately subdued her, but it wouldn't have left her unconscious for more than ten minutes. An injection would have been painful, but could have been led with Novocain. If she was injected, it would have to be a large dose to keep her unconscious. But the thiopental wouldn't have reduced her heart rate or her brain function to undetectable levels. There had to be something else...a combination of drugs. He closed his eyes. He'd stared at this very same page of notes for hours and had never gotten any further than he was now. Leaning back in his chair, he picked up his coffee cup. Maybe Hershel could, at least, send him in a direction. Any direction.

As he moved the cup to his lips, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," he said with the cup hovering near his lips. A nurse pushed a wheelchair carrying Hershel Maddox into his office. "Mr. Maddox, glad you could make it," Trapper said, setting his coffee aside. Glancing up at the nurse who was waiting behind Hershel's chair, Trapper raised his brows.

"Call me when you want me to come get him," she said indignantly, turning and closing the door behind her.

"I'm glad you came," said Trapper. "Would you like some coffee?"

"As long as it's caffeinated. I live on the stuff. Don't get up. I'll get it," said Hershel as he wheeled himself around toward the coffee maker with one arm. "You're the doctor who was engaged to the woman they found dead on China Beach, aren't you?"

Trapper shot him a glare and set his coffee back down on the desk.

"Don't wig out, man. When someone swaps one dead body for another one, it makes the news. Only you don't think the one they found on China Beach is dead. Otherwise you wouldn't be asking me how someone fooled all you doctors into thinking she was dead." Hershel cursed and stood up from the wheelchair. "I can't do anything in his contraption. It's my arm that's broke; not my legs." Taking his prepared coffee, he moved to the chair in front of Trapper's desk. "Hey doc, you've been thinking about drinking your coffee since I got here. It ought to be lukewarm by now."

Trapper thrust up from his desk, grabbed his cup and went to the coffee maker, starting another one in a clean cup, all the while wondering if every college kid was like his son; a know-it-all. "Mr. Maddox, someone went to a great deal of trouble to remove everything that could have proven she wasn't dead. They switched her body before the autopsy, they stole every sample that was taken in the morgue, and they took the pathologist's report for the body that _was_ autopsied. Then they killed the pathologist. The morgue attendant has disappeared. And now, the person who just might have all the answers ends up in an accident that could have killed him just as I had started looking for him."

Hershel's eyes widened. Then he winced and shook his head, but stopped and reconsidered what Trapper had just said. "The guy in the other car died."

Trapper snorted. "It wouldn't be the first time someone has died for a cause."

"Exactly what cause are you talking about?" asked Hershel as he set his coffee down on the desk and moved forward in his chair.

Exhaling, Trapper shook his head. "I'm probably overly suspicious with everything that's happened. What I need is to find out what they, whoever they are, could have used to make it appear she was dead. An EMT and three doctors all agreed she was dead."

Hershel stroked his chin. "Ten thousand dollars?"

"That's what I said. Five thousand now, five thousand when you deliver a solution."

"What if I can't?"

"Somehow, I think you can. At least, I'm counting on it."

"How they did it is easy." Hershel got up and looked outside the door and down the hall. "When I leave here, you can't contact me," he said, closing the door and returning to his chair. "These people aren't necessarily nice people, but they sometimes throw a few bucks my way for _research._ Slowing everything down to almost nothing is easy. As you said, sodium pentothal would knock her out pretty quickly. They'd have to give her a larger than normal dose to keep her out until the dimethyltryptamine could start to affect her normal reflexes, including ocular as well as her respiration. Lastly, they'd give her large doses of some kind of cholesterol lowering medication that would dull the electrical activity in the brain, however that alone wouldn't keep you from picking up electrical activity on an EEG. So they imbed a tiny transmitter under her skin that sends false signals to any electronics around it. It's a pretty sophisticated piece of programming."

Trapper had leaned back in his chair, letting his mouth drop open. "How the hell do you know this?"

"I get paid for research, Dr. McIntyre. I don't ask for references. This alone isn't going to get you anywhere. These people work in the underground...black market, and there's several groups of them. Tracking them down isn't going to be easy."

"What about the government? They should know about this," said Trapper, leaning forward and clasping his hands on his desk.

"Who do you think pays me to do the research on this kind of stuff?" Hershel stood. "I want cash."

Creasing his brows, Trapper moved his hands to the edge of his desk, pushing his chair back with his legs as he stood. "Wait a minute. Telling me what they did without telling me the likely suspects isn't going to help find her."

"You asked me to find out how they did it. This is the only thing I know of that's been tried...and failed. Maybe they got it right this time."

Trapper sucked in a quiet breath. "What do you mean 'maybe they got it right?'"

"No one that I know of has ever survived the cocktail," answered Hershel, bowing his head. "When they add the cholesterol drug, it reduces brain function to the point that the autonomics break down."

"Great," said Trapper, sinking back into his chair. "I'm right back where I was not knowing if she's alive or dead."

"Doc, if I knew anything else, I'd tell you." Standing, Hershel headed for the door. "There's an electronics shop on the northwest corner of Van Ness and California Street. Put the cash in a plain brown envelope with the name Louie on it and slip it through the mail slot."

Trapper raised his chin. "I'd prefer a money order or cashier's check."

Folding his lips into a tight line, Hershel nodded. "Look, Doc, normally, I'd prefer anything other than cash, but with what you've got going on, I don't want to be traceable. If my accident was no accident, I don't want to be around for awhile. It's time for a vacation anyway. I've been at the University for eight years." Halfway through the door, he added, "I'll leave tomorrow, so if you can take care of it today, I'd appreciate it." With that, Hershel Maddox was gone.

Trapper bowed his forehead into his hand and exhaled. He didn't hear the FBI agents enter his office.

"Dr. McIntyre, are you all right?" asked Tamara Savage.

Jerking his head up, he closed his eyes for a moment before he answered. "No. I know what they used to make it look like Leah was dead. And she still might be dead. What they gave her might have killed her."

Darren Allen stepped forward. "How did you find that out?"

"Never mind how I found out. We're dealing with some well connected people; someone with enough financial backing to pay the kind of people who'd be able to pull this off," said Trapper wearily. "Why are you here?"

Agent Savage closed the door and walked to the front of Trapper's desk. "We need your help, Dr. McIntyre."

"You need _my_ help?"

"It seems the local FBI office has been given orders to go through the motions on this case." Trapper's eyes turned dark, causing Tamara to raise her hand. "That's...why we need your help. We're not going back to the office. We need a place to work...with access to a telephone, to keep our notes, and to store anything we find."

"Why would the FBI tell you to go through the motions?"

"Because they want a bigger fish. As far as they're concerned, your fiancé and Ms. Bedford are collateral damage."

Moving his hand to the back of his neck, Trapper shook his head. "Who are we up against here? And why would they want Leah?"

Leaning back on the door, Agent Allen crossed his arms. "She had a high-level government clearance. She's good at what she does, and some of the things I saw her do are beyond normal. Other countries who aren't as advanced as us would make someone a rich man if that someone could provide her services."

Trapper suddenly felt light-headed as if his blood drained to his feet. He sat down hard in his chair. "Doug Manning."

"I'm not so sure," said Savage. She pulled out the envelope containing the chain and ring and poured them out on his desk. "Do you recognize these?"

"Leah's," Trapper said, quietly. "They belong to Leah." He looked up. "Where did you find them?"

"They were sold at a pawn shop," said Allen. "And you'll never guess the name the guy gave the pawn dealer." Trapper glared at him. "Mark Hansen."

With his lips parted, Trapper looked disbelievingly, first at Allen and then at Savage. He shook his head. "No, Mark Hansen wasn't out to hurt her. He was in love with her."

"Think about it, Dr. McIntyre. She taught him everything she knew. He was out of a job, and thanks to Manning, he wasn't going to get another one. So maybe he cashed in."

Rolling his eyes, Trapper barked, "I just said whoever took her had to be well-connected...not only in who they knew, but financially. Mark is neither of those."

"Then explain to me how he got his hands on her engagement ring?" asked Allen with his hands on his hips.

Trapper threw his hands in the air. It seemed the answers they had only created more questions.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

There was a certain look on Trapper's face that everyone recognized. The best course of action while he was wearing that look was to stay away from him. Today, he wore that look as he stormed down the hall toward the exam rooms on the fourth floor. He had barely made it through the door before he demanded to know, "What is it?"

Gonzo turned from his patient and looked Trapper up and down, recognizing the look. "Sorry Trapper. I wouldn't have paged if I didn't need you."

Closing his eyes, Trapper took several deep, calming breaths. "No, Gonzo. I'm the one who should apologize. What've you got?"

Gonzo stepped over to the other side of the room, moving his hand to Trapper's arm and taking him with him. "This guy was brought in by the police drunk out of his mind. He says he knows you."

"What's his name?"

"Mark Hansen."

Trapper's head snapped up. Holding up his index finger, he quietly said, "Wait one minute," and then left the room. He went to the nurse's station and asked for the phone, then pulled it to the end of the counter and turned away. "Yes, security, there are two FBI agents on their way out of the hospital. I need you to stop them and send them up to exam room six on the fourth floor. What do you mean 'what do they look like?' They look like cops in plain clothes. A white man and a black woman, both wearing sport jackets. Yes, I'll hold."

Gonzo had wandered out of the exam room and looked up and down the hall for Trapper. Seeing him on the phone at the nurse's station, he walked over with a curious look.

"I'm on hold. What is it?"

"He looks familiar. Who is he?"

"He was Leah's technical lead here at the hospital. She fired him."

Gonzo's eyes grew wide. "Oh yeah. I remember him now. He seemed pretty together. How did he end up like this?"

"Long story. I'll explain later." He removed his hand from the receiver. "Yes? Good. Send them up." Trapper hung up the phone and pulled Gonzo further down the hall, then leaned on the wall and crossed his arms. "Leah's engagement ring has turned up at a pawn shop. The man who brought it in told the owner his name was Mark Hansen."

Raising his brows and nodding, Gonzo asked, "So who's coming up?"

"FBI."

"Uh, Trapper," said Gonzo, stepping closer and lowering his voice as he looked around him. "You're acting like this was a kidnapping instead of an accident."

Trapper smiled. "It is."

"It is what?"

"A kidnapping. Leah was taken alive. And we know how she appeared dead. What we don't know is who took her or where she is. And based on what they gave her…" He assumed a solemn expression. "…the drugs might have killed her after they took her."

"We? Who's we?" asked Gonzo, furrowing his brow.

"Dr. McIntyre?" said Agent Savage.

Clamping down on Gonzo's shoulders and turning him toward the exam room, Trapper said, "Dr. Gates. Would you lead the way?"

Gonzo shrugged and rolled his eyes before he moved forward toward the exam room. When he opened the door, he stepped back, allowing Trapper and the two FBI agents in. Following them in, he kept his distance, leaning back on the door.

Agent Allen looked at the patient. "That's Mark Hansen."

"Indeed it is," said Trapper with a smirk.

Agent Savage stepped forward and looked at the man on the exam table. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's drunk," said Gonzo.

The two agents looked back at Gonzo, then at Trapper. "Allow me to introduce Dr. Gates. Dr. Gates, Agents Darren Allen and Tamara Savage from the FBI."

Allen nodded toward Gates. "How soon can we speak with him?"

"Well, we don't make a habit of keeping drunks any longer than we have to. But it depends on how much he's had to drink."

"Dr. McIntyre, can you keep him here after he's awake so we can talk to him," asked Tamara.

Turning back to Gonzo, Trapper said, "I'll sign the release papers. And until I do, he's a patient."

Gonzo took a deep breath and shook his head. "It's your neck."

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"Sir, she's beginning to move."

"Is she awake?" The man behind the desk turned his chair forward.

Stepping further into the quarters, the visitor stood with his hands clasped in front of him. "Not yet, but her vital signs are near normal again. It shouldn't be too much longer."

"How soon before she's back on her feet?"

"I wouldn't rush it. We don't know if there's been any brain damage. If there is, it could be anywhere from functionally severe to memory loss."

The man behind the desk stood up and walked to a porthole, looking out. Continuing to look out, he asked, "But there may be no damage, isn't that so?"

"Mr. Manning, we're lucky she's still alive. With the complications of her heart, after all the other failures, she shouldn't be. She still may not survive. We have to give her adequate time.

Spinning around and slamming his fist down on his desk, Manning said, "We're running out of time. We have a meeting to attend...with her...intact."

Taking a deep breath, the doctor who had been caring for her said quietly, "I've done everything I can for her. At the moment, all I can do is continue to administer the cyclosporine for her heart. The rest is up to her." He hesitated, wondering if he was pushing Manning's temper. "Once she understands what's happened, I'm not so sure she'll want to live."

Manning laughed, first a chuckle, and then an all out laugh that sent his head back. "I have no doubt she'd rather die than work for me again. She's the most bull-headed woman I've ever known. But I know just the thing that will keep her in line."

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Trapper stood at the window of his office, looking out over the courtyard. Allen waited in the room with Mark Hansen while Savage left to get a camera. Rather than waiting for Mark to awaken from his stupor she was going to take a picture of him so the pawn dealer could identify him as the man who sold Leah's engagement ring. In the meantime, there was nothing to do but wait.

"Trapper, I need to speak with you," said Arnold, standing in Trapper's open door.

Trapper turned around, and when Arnold closed the door, he asked, "Is this an official visit?"

Casting his eyes down for a moment, Arnold reservedly said, "Yes, I'm afraid it is. I know you didn't want to take some time off, but for all intents and purposes, you have. The board has decided that it would be in the hospital's best interest...and yours...if the time off was official."

"Official?"

"Yes, we'll bring in a temporary replacement for you while you get some help. David Sandler has agreed to work with you...to get you through this."

Scratching the back of his head, Trapper winced. "I suppose that means I can't use my office."

"Your substitute will need it." Arnold expected an argument, but got none.

The truth was Trapper knew this was coming. How could it not? He wasn't doing his job, and the surgical department wasn't going to run itself. "I'd still like to be on call...for emergencies."

"I don't know, Trapper..."

"Sometimes the work helps take my mind off of it."

Arnold shook his head. He wasn't thrilled about the idea, considering the liability to the hospital with a doctor who was emotionally impaired, but Trapper was an old friend and probably more competent in his present state of mind than most other doctors normally. He turned to leave, but turned back at the last moment. "Keep your pager."

"I have to gather some things and tie up some lose ends. I'll be gone by the end of the day."

Arnold nodded sadly and left.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Mark Hansen heard muffled voices and opened his eyes. He lay listening to the conversation between the man and woman in the room before he took a good look around. "San Francisco Memorial," he thought to himself.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hansen."

It was a woman's voice; one he didn't recognize.

"I know you're awake. I saw you looking around the room."

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and met a pair of brown eyes looking back at him. "Where am I?"

"You're at San Francisco Memorial Hospital. Do you remember how you got here?"

"N-no." He looked away as if thinking. Of course, he did, but he couldn't tell them that. "Is Dr. McIntyre here?"

"He's in his office, but before you speak with him, we'd like to ask you a few questions," said Agent Allen.

"Who are you?" asked Mark, sitting up slowly on the side of the bed. Both agents flashed their badges. "FBI?" He lowered his head to his fingers and stroked his forehead. "I can't answer your questions right now. Everything's…foggy."

"Mr. Hansen, do you drink?" asked Agent Allen.

"Doesn't everyone?" he said, still with his head down and groggy. He looked up and saw a smirk, so he went on. "When you think about it, everyone drinks…something."

"Alcohol?"

Raising his head, Mark answered snidely, "Ethanol, butanol, methanol…or maybe isopropyl?"

Allen crossed his arms beginning to lose his patience. "How about beer, wine, rum, tequila…moonshine?"

"I don't drink alcohol, Agent…" He snapped his fingers. "Allen."

"You're lying!"

Tamara grabbed Darren's arm and pulled him backward as she stepped forward. "Mr. Hansen, your blood alcohol was over one percent. That's not drunk. That's smashed. How could you be smashed if you didn't have a drink?"

"Why does the FBI care whether I was drunk? Did I kill or maim someone? I'm sure I would have remembered that."

Tamara pulled the chain and ring out of her pocket. "Do you recognize these?"

Mark glanced at them. "No."

"Take a closer look, Mr. Hansen. A pawn dealer says you sold these to him this morning."

Moving his hands to either side of his head, Mark closed his eyes. "Look. I don't know anything about selling a ring. And I have no idea what happened, but I did not drink myself stupid. I don't drink. Why are you people so interested in me? I haven't done anything…I don't even have a job at the moment."

"Do you know Leah Haverty?" asked Tamara quietly.

His eyes met hers. "Leah. Is that what this is all about? What about Leah?"

"You tell us."

Looking confused, he said, "Well…she's dead. Isn't she?"

At that moment, Trapper stepped through the door, but stopped and eyed Savage and Allen severely. "What are you two still doing here? Hansen's a patient, and until I release him, you don't get to question him."

"You're too late, John. They've already confused the hell out of me."

Moving his hand to Mark's forehead, Trapper pushed his head back and shined a small light into his eyes. "Pupil reaction is normal. How's your head?"

"It hurts."

"You never struck me as the type to tie one on."

"I'm not. I don't know what happened."

Trapper grunted, and stroked his chin. Moving to the phone on the wall of the room, he called the nurse's desk. "Get someone in here to take some blood."

"What are you looking for?" asked Agent Allen.

"Any drug that might cause a reaction that can be confused with intoxication."

"John, they asked about Leah. What would they ask that? She's dead."

Glancing quickly at Savage and Allen, Trapper pursed his lips and studied Mark. "She didn't drown by accident, Mark. She was murdered."

Mark sucked in a breath. "Oh. Why would they think I'd be involved in something like that? You know I couldn't hurt Leah."

"I do, Mark. But why would you have her necklace and engagement ring?"

"I-I didn't. John, I didn't sell them. It wasn't me."

"Well," said Trapper with a reassuring pat on the shoulder and a smile. "Let's get the intoxication cleared up first, and we'll go from there." Turning to Savage and Allen, he said, "Agents, you can have him when I'm finished with him. Until then, you'll have to leave the room." Showing them to the door, Trapper followed, but before he left, he said to Mark, "Lay back and relax for awhile. I can only keep the dogs at bay for limited time." When the door closed behind him, he motioned for the two agents to follow him down the hall. "What did the pawn dealer say when you showed him the photo?"

"He said he looked similar, but that there were differences," said Tamara. "Now I imagine this guy is good at remembering faces considering the business he's in. He looked at that photo long and hard before he said no."

"So is someone trying to set Mark up?" asked Trapper.

Agent Allen raised his chin. "Why did you tell him Leah's dead?"

"The thought had crossed my mind that Manning could be using him to get information about what we know. He's used him like that before."

"You said he was in love with her. Were you and he rivals for the lady's attention?" asked Tamara.

Trapper snorted. "Interested, yes. Rivals, no. Leah didn't want anything to do with him."

"Well, the best we can do at this point is follow him…see where he goes and who he sees," said Allen. "I'll take care of that. At least he thinks we still think she's dead."

"And I have to spend some time at the DMV looking through boat registrations. If I find one for Doug Manning, I'll be going to the harbor master's office to check the logs."

"Then I'll meet you both this evening at my house," said Trapper. He watched them walk down the hall and disappear into the elevator, then looked back at the door of the exam room, thinking to himself, "Maybe they were trying to implicate him in her murder. Why else would they send someone who was almost a dead ringer for him to sell Leah's ring."

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True to his word, Trapper left his office in the early evening after seeing two more patients and consulting with Gonzo for several surgeries. He really wasn't taking much with him; just his extra clothes from the office closet, and a framed photograph of Leah and him on the cliffs at Albion that he kept on the credenza behind his desk. The wind had been strong the day that photo was made, making the temperature a little cool even in the sunshine. Once again, he had pulled the pin out of her hair allowing it to fall around her shoulders, but mostly whip around in the strong breeze. She had laughed, and he had moved his arms around her and laughed with her. Someone caught the moment and gave them the picture before they left for home that weekend. As he stood in the doorway, remembering, he smiled. She had been relaxed that weekend. She hadn't even mentioned her work or the hospital. Her off-work personality came completely out of hiding that weekend; the first time he was sure he had fallen in love.

The smile faded as his eyes turned sad, and he took a deep shuddering breath. But she was alive. He knew it. And he would find her.

Closing the door, he walked out of the hospital without looking back. When he arrived at home, Agents Savage and Allen were waiting for him as planned. He let them in, showed them the dining room table they would use as their desks, then gave them a tour of the main floor of the house. "Kitchen is there, bathroom is there. There's no reason for you to go upstairs. Oh, by the way," Trapper added as he took one step up the stairs. "I intend to help you find her."

"Whoa, Doc," said Allen. "We aren't going to have time to wait on you to get away from the hospital."

On his way up the stairs, Trapper replied, "You won't have to. I've been forced to take a leave of absence."

Turning to Savage, Allen said in a low voice. "Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe we should find another place."

"I wouldn't worry too much," said Tamara, smiling. "He won't be able to keep up with us, I'm sure. Besides, if we find her, we may need his medical expertise. I've been reading her medical history. Not pretty."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

After putting away the clothes he brought home from his office, Trapper went back downstairs and found Agents Allen and Savage going over their findings spread all over the dining room table. Leaning against the short wall that separated the dining and living rooms, he listened for a few minutes until he heard Tamara say she'd found an entry in the harbormaster's log the evening before Leah was found on the beach.

"Manning's yacht was here?" asked Trapper.

Both agents looked up from the copied page of the log. "Well, his yacht was here," said Allen. "But that doesn't prove Manning was. We're trying to track it with the help of the Coast Guard."

"What about Mark?"

Allen stood and walked into the kitchen, coming back quickly with three beers. He held one out to Trapper who raised his brows. "Well, we thought the least we could do was make sure the refrigerator was stocked," said Darren, tipping his beer up for a drink.

"Mark went to his address of record and stayed put. I spoke to the leasing office. They said he's in the process of eviction...hasn't paid rent in two months. And we have no leads on the guy who impersonated him." After taking another sip of his beer, Allen nodded toward Trapper. "What showed up in his blood tests?"

"Benzodiazepine."

"That would make him seem drunk?"

"Mm hm," replied Trapper as he took a sip of his beer and walked around the table. "Where's the Coast Guard looking for Manning?"

"He stayed in the bay until the night before the autopsy was performed," said Tamara. "I'm thinking Angela's body was taken off the yacht that night and exchanged for Leah's body at which time, they left for Los Angeles where Manning showed up three days later. He was there a few days, but after that no one seems to know where he went other than out to sea."

"So you start with Mark until someone sees Manning?" asked Trapper.

Darren looked at Tamara. "We were just talking about that. If we go pick him up, he's probably not going to say anything if he thinks we're after him. But if you go talk to him...well...it seemed he trusted you."

Trapper snorted, turned into the living room and sat on the sofa. "Trusts me? He thinks I stole the woman he loves right out from under him."

"Didn't you?" asked Tamara.

Trapper shot her an angry glance. "You have to own something for it to be stolen from you. She never belonged to him. She thought of him as a kid brother."

"Then why would he ask for you in the hospital?" asked Allen. "Why wouldn't he just let Gates treat and release him?"

Crossing her arms, Tamara looked first at Allen and then at Trapper. "Unless he wanted information. He knew you'd be glued to this investigation. You said Manning could be using him; that he'd done that before. What did he do?"

"He spied on Leah for Manning. Manning liked to think he controlled her. He manipulated everything around her so he could keep her as an employee. She made money for him."

"What changed?" asked Tamara, walking into the living room and sitting in the chair across from Trapper.

"I suppose I changed everything. There was a situation at the hospital that upset her so badly she resigned her position. But Doug talked her into going back to work. It was after that we found he was having her followed. We didn't find out that Mark was the one who'd been spying on her until right before she quit Manning and became the hospital's CIO."

"And Manning was upset," said Allen. "Very upset."

Trapper took another sip of beer. "He wanted her to take over at Xanda after those two scientists were left for dead. And she was his only way in. The government didn't want anyone else he had. Then when Angela turned over court papers that showed Manning and Leah had an adversarial relationship, the grant committee in Washington canned him as their technical consultant. After that, he sold everything he owned in the States and disappeared."

Tamara studied the floor. "He didn't get Xanda, and he's sold Manning Consulting. Why would Manning want her now?"

"Because of what she does...what she can do," said Darren. "I'm betting she can do a whole lot more than we saw," he said, looking over at Trapper.

Smiling, Trapper said, "I don't doubt it." His smile soon turned into a pushed up bottom lip. "I don't think I should talk to Mark. I've already told him Leah is dead. There'd be no other reason so speak to him. Can't you follow him? See where he goes?"

"He may not move for awhile," answered Darren.

Trapper scoffed. "He's a programmer for Christ's sake. He's not some deep cover spy."

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Doug Manning stood at the foot of Leah's bed. When she had regained consciousness, he had her moved to a more comfortable room with a private bathroom, a television and a stereo. The doctor said she'd opened her eyes and looked at him, but as yet had not uttered a word. Every time Manning was in the room her eyes were closed. He began to wonder if she was really awake and just didn't want to face him.

"She could have some brain damage. Then again, it might just take some time for her system to recover from the cocktail. If you'll remember, no one has ever survived it in its former configuration."

"I don't want to hear any more excuses. I need her up and around and as intelligent as ever. I need to be five steps ahead of the American government, and she's the only one who can keep me there. I need someone to run simulations of what these dirty bombs can do, and she's the one who can create them and run them the quickest."

"What about the young man you sent back?"

"He'll never be able to do what she's capable of." Doug stood in the doorway looking out over the ocean. "You should see her work...no, think," he said with an almost demonic smile as if he had created the perfect machine in Leah. "You can actually see thoughts travel across and through her head. Her eyes flit back and forth like she's reading it. And then it comes out of her mouth...out of the tips of her fingers and into the computer like she's part of it...like some kind of cybernetic interface." Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself, shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and smiled. "It's a beautiful sight."

"No." The faint voice came from the bed.

Doug and the doctor looked at each other before they rushed to opposite sides of the bed. Her eyes were still closed, but the doctor moved one lid up and flashed a light in her eye, causing her to squint.

"So, you are awake. Welcome back to the living."

Her eyes became thin slits as she looked at Doug. "No."

"No? Do you think you have a choice in something?" Laughing, Doug continued, "You don't even know what you're saying no to?"

She attempted to shake her head, but managed only a slight movement away. Her next word was strong, but the last so faint they barely heard. "Die...first."

"Oh, but you have so much to live for, Leah." Doug nodded to the doctor who walked over to the television and turned it on.

Leah exhaled so suddenly when she saw Trapper's image on the screen, the machines around her began to beep. Struggling to rise from her pillow, she broke out in a sweat from the effort before falling back down.

The doctor was resigned that he was going to be Doug's lackey for a long time and simply crossed his arms. "You're going to kill her yourself if you're not careful."

"Stabilize her. Then wake her up. I want her out of that bed by the end of the week." With that order, Doug turned and left the stateroom.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Agent Allen had been following Mark all morning. It seemed the man was going everywhere and nowhere. He went into a grocery, but bought nothing. He stopped at a newsstand and browsed, but bought nothing. He went by the wharf and didn't even raise his head to look around. He just kept his head lowered and walked. Finally, he did something. He stopped at a phone booth, seemingly random, and made a phone call, speaking for several minutes before he hung up and went on his way. After Mark turned the corner at the next block, Allen ducked into the phone booth and took down the number of the payphone, then rushed down the street and around the corner.

Mark had disappeared.

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Trapper stood in the kitchen staring into the refrigerator. The scales indicated he'd lost ten pounds, so he decided he'd have to start eating again. But there was nothing in the confounded refrigerator that made him want to eat. He slammed the door, then turned and searched the kitchen, spotting a loaf of bread. Turning, he reached back into the refrigerator and withdrew the butter, then proceeded to make himself toast. He'd already made the coffee. Toast went well with coffee.

Just as he finished buttering his toast, he heard a frenzied knock at the front door. When he opened it, he scowled and waited for Mark to say something.

"John, I know I'm the last person you'd want to see right now, but I need help. Someone's following me, and I think it has something to do with Leah's death."

Trapper's eyebrows involuntarily rose along with every hair on the back of his neck. He stepped past Mark and looked up and down the street and across at the park, then stepped back in. "Why would you think someone was following you?"

"Because I saw this guy everywhere I went. It didn't matter where I was or what I did, he was always there."

Trapper folded his arms across his chest and looked sidelong at Mark. "Why would you think it has anything to do with Leah?"

"You said she was murdered. Maybe I'm a suspect."

Moving his hand to the back of his bowed head, Trapper swore under his breath. "Come on in," he said grudgingly. "I don't know what you expect me to do."

"I thought you might know something if they're investigating her death as a murder."

"Well, I don't. Other than the reasons they think it was murder, and none of that matters. You want some coffee?"

Mark nodded and followed Trapper into the kitchen where Trapper handed him a cup and motioned to the coffee maker.

"When's the last time you saw Manning?"

Mark's head snapped up. "Manning?" he echoed thoughtfully. "I think the last time Leah was in the hospital...when he came out to see her. I didn't even speak to him directly when I resigned. But I know he called in a few favors because every tech outfit hiring won't even give me an interview."

"I don't know what to tell you, Mark," said Trapper, leaning back on the kitchen cabinet. "They tell me very little about the particulars of their investigation."

"You think Manning did it, don't you?" asked Mark after taking a sip of coffee.

"Well, she did make things difficult for him on more than one front."

"That may be true, and Manning can be vindictive, but he wouldn't have killed her. He'd have found a way to use her. He thought of her as a commodity...a thing. He considered her his most valuable asset. People don't throw away their prized possessions."

Trapper moved his hand to his chin. "Well, if that's true, I'm sure the FBI will eventually find out."

"John, don't you see what I'm saying?" Trapper creased his brow. "Leah could still be alive."

Looking away, Trapper scoffed. "Mark, she's dead and buried. Even Manning can't resurrect the dead."

"Of all people, John, I thought you'd never give up hope."

"How can I have any hope when I identified her on the slab at the morgue? I arranged for the funeral and her burial. I dropped a rose onto her casket after it was lowered into the vault." He stroked his forehead. "You should go."

Mark nodded curtly. "Thanks for the coffee. I'll show myself out."

Standing in the entryway of the kitchen, Trapper watched Mark leave, then went to the window and waited for him to disappear around the corner of the next block before he called Agent Allen's pager.

Within minutes, the phone rang. "Allen, Mark Hansen just left here. He pointed me toward Manning. Said Manning wouldn't want her dead. He'd want to use her."

It was difficult to hear the voice on the other end of the line because of the traffic noise and yelling in the background. "What did you tell him?"

"I said I knew Leah was dead. That I'd identified her body, and I buried her. After that, he seemed anxious to leave."

"I'll stick around his apartment for awhile, but I have a feeling he won't be back. We'll order a state-wide APB on him. Hopefully we'll find out where he's going." The next thing Trapper heard was a click and a dial tone.

Slowly, he dropped the receiver back down on the cradle. He was right back where he started; wanting to do something, but not knowing exactly what to do. He wanted to look for her, but he had no idea where to even begin. He was stuck in the house...with nothing to do but wait.

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"Gonzo, we've got gunshot victims coming in," said Ernie as she passed Gonzo in the hall on her way to emergency.

Gonzo stopped and watched as she continued on. "Can't Stan handle them?"

"Not this many. He's going to need all the help he can get," she said loudly as she stood holding the elevator door. "Well, come on!"

When they arrived in emergency, both went to the nurse's station where Dr. Riverside was on the phone taking notes, shouting orders, and then listening again. "All right, we can take at least half of them. You'd better send the rest to Bay General." Again, he listened. "Because if it's as bad as you say it is, we don't have enough surgeons on hand to work on these people." Hanging up the phone, he turned to Ernie and Gonzo. "We have twelve people on the way all with gunshot wounds to various parts of their bodies. Gonzo, a good many of these are chest wounds. I'd go ahead and line up someone to assist you."

"Stan, we have enough thoracic surgeons to handle a few scheduled surgeries, but we're in the middle of summer. We don't have enough on hand for twelve surgeries."

"Well, then page John. Arnold let him keep his pager for this very reason."

As he watched Stan walk down the corridor to prepare the exam rooms, Gonzo stewed. He didn't want to bother Trapper.

"Gonzo, why are you hesitating?" asked Ernie. "We could use Trapper's help."

"Ernie, he's supposed to be...

"Sitting there feeling sorry for himself? Putting him on leave was the last thing Arnold should have done. He needs to work. Without it he dwells on it, and trust me, it's not a pretty sight."

Gonzo looked doubtfully at Ernie before he turned and picked up the phone on the counter at the nurse's station. He dialed and waited...one ring...two rings...three rings.

"Hello."

"Trapper?"

"Well, it is my phone. Who'd you expect it to be?"

"You sound good."

"What can I do for you, Gonzo?"

"We've got twelve gunshot victims on their way in. I could use some help."

"What took you so long? I'm on my way."

Gonzo heard a click, and then looked at the receiver. Ernie smiled. "Told you," she said, walking away to help Dr. Riverside.

As the victims came in, the hospital emergency staff discovered they were all victims of a gang fight. Unfortunately, it seemed the fight was still going on in the hospital corridor as more and more victims were brought in.

Dr. Riverside stopped one of the ambulance attendants. "It told you to take some of these to Bay General."

"Two buses collided down on Embarcadero. Bay General is working one of the buses. They don't have the room."

Stan drew in a breath and shuddered in anger as he watched gurney after gurney come through the double doors. "What about University Hospital?"

"They got the other bus, Doc. Sorry," said the driver, shrugging while handing his paperwork to Gloria.

A fight broke out between two men whose gurneys were parked next to each other. Stan had already called for security, and they were on top of it. Still, Stanley rushed down the hall, looking a bit harried. "For Heaven's sake, you're in a hospital. Act like responsible adults for a change!" he yelled, then called two orderlies over. "I want the ones in the black jackets down that hall," he said, pointing. "Leave the rest of them here."

Gonzo was moving from one gurney to the next, sending the more serious to an exam room. Once Stan had everyone organized, he joined in triage. "Stan, I've already got four who need surgery...chest wounds."

"Gloria," Stan yelled as he looked around.

"Yes, doctor."

"Call the surgery suite and reserve as many rooms as you can. Tell them we have an emergency room full of gunshot and knife victims, and if they give you any trouble, call Arnold."

Trapper rushed through the door and looked around. "Let me guess. The sky fell , and I missed it."

Standing over the gurney of what looked like a very young man, late teens probably, Stan said, "John, I'm glad you're here. This is your first surgery. "

Trapper looked down on a gaping wound in the man's chest near his heart. "Give me your stethoscope, Stan."

Handing over the scope, Stanley stood back and waited while Trapper listened to the man's chest. "Lung sounds compromised." He moved the stethoscope over the heart, and listened intently. "I think he's bleeding out. Let's get him upstairs, stat. Get Gonzo to assist."

Gonzo had just walked by. "I can't, Trapper. I have one of my own going up."

"Stan, find someone and send them upstairs." As he whisked by Ernie, he said, "You're with me."

She smiled as she watched him go by. "That sounds more like it," she said as she fell in step.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Trapper sat on a bench leaning back against a wall in the locker room after his second surgery. Gonzo pushed through the door and stopped. To Trapper, he looked dead on his feet, both of his surgeries having been long and intricate.

After his first surgery, Trapper traded patients, opting for the more routine. More than once he found himself thinking about finding Leah rather than paying attention to what his hands were doing pretty much on their own with remembered practice. Only when Ernie mentioned that she had to ask him three times if he needed his brow wiped, did he realize that driving a car while your mind was somewhere else generally worked out. But he wouldn't allow his surgeons to approach their surgeries unless their minds were present, and he certainly wasn't going to accept anything less from himself.

Gonzo flopped down on the bench next to him.

"How'd it go?"

Lowering his forehead into his hand, Gonzo yawned. "I'll know in a few hours. The bullet splintered a rib before it pierced the lower left lobe of his lung. I had to resect the lobe. And there were bone fragments everywhere."

Trapper breathed deeply, continuing to face forward, finding a little peace in the plainness of the locker door across from him. "Sorry to do that to you, Gonzo, but considering where my mind's been, it needed to be in that operating room, and it just wasn't."

"What does that say for your first surgery?"

"I went over it again before we closed. He lost the majority of his liver, so he'll be on the list for a transplant. I don't even know if I can send him home. It depends on his next blood workup."

"Do you really think it matters, Trapper?" asked Gonzo with a bit of a bite as he sat forward. "This was a gang fight. None of these kids have insurance. They can't afford to keep getting patched up, but they'll keep on fighting over territory they don't even own." Standing, he pulled his green shirt over his head and threw it in the laundry bag in the corner.

Trapper understood Gonzo's frustration well. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen time and time again since he'd gone to Korea, and he knew Gonzo had seen just as much in Viet Nam. "Gonz, sometimes you have to look at what we do as nothing more than a job. You come in, you do your job, you go home and sip wine." Gonzo let his head tilt to the side and sighed. "Then there are those you give the extra time to...the ones who didn't go looking for it and who appreciate the help."

Leaning against the opposite bank of lockers, Gonzo crossed his arms. "So what was your second surgery?"

"Flesh wound. Dug the bullet out, sewed him up, and gave him a strong dose of antibiotics with instructions to go home and rest after he's out of recovery." Looking at his watch, Trapper continued, "Which should be soon. I gave him a local."

"Why's he in recovery?"

Trapper chuckled. "Because when he saw me start digging for the bullet, he passed out. He sliced another guy up with a knife, but he passes out for a little outpatient surgery. Tough guy," commented Trapper as he pushed himself off the bench.

Gonzo turned, opened his locker and began to remove the rest of his greens. "So'd you figure anything out in surgery? About Leah, I mean?"

"Yep. If the FBI doesn't have any answers as to where Manning is by tomorrow morning, I'm going to hire someone who can find him."

Turning around, Gonzo whistled. "That's gonna be expensive."

At this point, Trapper had completely stripped. He shrugged as he wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed his shower toiletries from his locker. "So there won't be a doctor's lounge in the new children's wing."

That night, Trapper slept well. The next morning, he was up early waiting for Savage and Allen to show up at the house. When Tamara let herself in with the key Trapper had given her, Trapper realized she was alone. "Where's Darren?"

"He staked out Mark's place last night. Mark hasn't shown up to get his belongings. He's gone."

Passing Tamara a cup of coffee, Trapper pushed his bottom lip up. "Maybe it's worse than that."

"I don't think so," replied Tamara, shaking her head. "I think you were right. He was fishing, so he could report back to Manning if they were in the clear. For all his professions of love, he's selling her out."

"Suppose he expects to have her for himself. I don't think Manning wants her outside of what she can do for him with computers. But what if Manning promised Mark he could have her if he could make me go away?"

Tamara raised her brows. Trapper's knowledge of all the players was turning out to be advantageous. "If that's true, we've lost our one lead. That is, unless we find the yacht."

As Trapper walked to the front door to answer a knock, he said, "We've been assuming he's still close to the US, but what if he's not?"

Looking up at the ceiling, Agent Savage was waiting until after Trapper answered the door to tell him how hopeless it would be if that were true. She didn't get the chance.

Another week had passed with the ship still anchored off Catalina Island. There was no point in going anywhere. No one knew where they were, so at the moment they were safely tucked away amid a hundred ships in the harbor. It was just as well because Manning couldn't deliver on his promises until Leah was well enough to sit at a computer.

He'd seen her every morning when he rose and every evening before he retired to check her progress. Tonight, she was propped in a more upright position in her adjustable hospital bed, drinking soup from a straw.

"Well, that's a good sign," said Doug, cheerfully. "Though you should have been walking by now."

Just the act of holding her head up was tiring, and her conversations with Doug were even more so. "I don't know what you expect from me," she whispered in a hoarse voice. "You almost killed me. As it is, I still can't feel my legs, and my hands..." she struggled to push the mug of soup away, "don't work."

"We've already made progress. You're the first to survive the cocktail. Of course, we had to be reasonably sure you would. You should be thanking me. Several people died to make sure of it."

Closing her eyes, she almost allowed a tear to escape. The thought of Doug using others as guinea pigs to test the drugs he'd given her made her stomach lurch.

"But I thought you might need a little more motivation. I've brought you an educational video." Doug slipped the VHS tape into a player against the far wall underneath a large television screen and pushed a button. At first the picture was blurry, but when it focused, Trapper's house was crisp and clear on the screen. She thought whoever taped this was probably standing right across the street in the park. A man stood at the door and knocked, then ran down the stairs and down the sidewalk.

She raised her head up off her pillow when she saw Trapper answer the door, and then dash down the steps and out into the street. He was looking right at the camera and didn't see the car that had just turned down Steiner Street. The car screeched to a halt and only bumped Trapper, but knocked him to the ground. He got up and looked around for the camera, but by that time, the occupant of the car and a woman who came running out of the house distracted him.

Leah found herself trembling.

"The woman is an FBI agent from D.C. investigating the death of your friend, Angela."

Her head snapped up, causing a wave of dizziness to overtake her. She let her chin fall to her chest and squeezed her eyes closed to stop the room from spinning.

Doug pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down. "Now, you mustn't get too upset. The driver was one of my men. He could have easily killed Dr. McIntyre. That won't happen if you're a good girl, and the quicker you recover, the fewer accidents he'll have. Of course, if you don't make some progress, the accidents will become more than an inconvenience."

"You killed Angela?"

"She swore you didn't put her up to turning the court papers into the grant committee. Which meant she was the one to be punished. Truthfully, it wouldn't have mattered if she had confessed. She looked enough like you to pull off the ruse of your death. I'm waiting on word as to whether that worked or not."

While one hand covered Leah's mouth as the tears flowed, her other hand, though mostly useless, quite forcefully knocked the cup of soup off the bed table right into Doug's lap.

Springing up from the chair with a guttural growl, he grasped Leah by the neck and pushed her head back onto the pillow. "I could have you killed in an instant," he hissed.

Her eyes bore into his without an ounce of fear showing. "Do me the favor," she whispered back, and though he could barely hear her, the venom in her voice was unmistakable.

The doctor entered the stateroom when he heard the cup break. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Manning, you've invested much too much to end it now. Her internal organs are beginning to function normally which is tremendous progress."

"What about her brain?" Doug asked while keeping his hand around her neck and his eyes on hers.

"She's fighting you. She's recognized what you're doing. She's goading you. All of that signifies complex thought. Only a few days ago, she was struggling to form words."

"Start physical therapy tomorrow."

"But Mr. Manning..."

"I don't want to hear it. I don't care how hard you have to push her. We leave tomorrow for the Middle East. She has to be ready by the time we get there." Squeezing his hand around her throat just before he released her, he backed away, spun on his heel and left the room.

The doctor came over to the bed and began to clear the remnants of her dinner away. "You shouldn't provoke him. He will lose his temper one day and kill you."

She managed a laugh. "And the joke will be on him."

"This is no joke, Ms. Haverty. He won't stop at killing you. He'll kill everyone you ever cared for."

She scoffed and turned away. "They're already dead."

"I'm not talking about your husband and children. I'm talking about your Dr. McIntyre."

"What does he want with me?"

"He says you're a technical genius. Whatever he wants has to do with your knowledge of United States Government computer systems and protocols." Leaning closer as he fluffed her pillow, he whispered, "He has reactor grade plutonium to sell. He needs you to find a way to deploy it."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

The doctor had said a mouthful. So Doug was the recipient of the missing plutonium at Xanda. Closing her eyes, she cursed. She should have known it all along. He was trying much too hard to gain some kind of control there. If he had, he could have gotten away with so much more nuclear material as well as classified government information about the research performed at Xanda Labs. And she, unwittingly, would have been his accomplice.

Her eyelids were heavy more out of utter disgust and helplessness than fatigue. She promised herself she'd not be so ambitious if she ever won back her freedom. But unless she could manage to get away or someone found her, she'd never be out of Doug's clutches. He'd go on using her for one scheme after another until one of them was dead. And he was much healthier than she, even if he hadn't almost killed her with his concoction. The human heart can only take so much abuse; physical or emotional.

Later that night, Leah awoke to the shudder and then low hum of the yacht's engines. They were leaving the relative calm of the islands on their way across the vast ocean to somewhere. Exactly where, she didn't know, but she was sure it was no place good.

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Tamara understood Trapper's frustration and anger, but when it became impossible to speak with the police officer over him, she demanded he go back into the house, else she'd allow the officer to handcuff him and put him in the back seat of a cruiser. What he was saying wasn't making any sense to the police officer anyway.

So Trapper paced back and forth in front of the living room window, stopping with each turn to jerk the sheer curtains aside and glare out at the scene in the street in front of his house. The driver was shrugging and pointing while Tamara seemed to be getting angrier by the moment.

Finally, the officer called a tow truck for the car and put the driver in the back seat of the patrol car and drove away. Tamara trotted up the steps and walked in the door long enough to grab her keys. As she walked back out the door, she said, "I'm questioning the driver at the police station. I'll let you know if he gives us any information," and with that, she was gone.

Trapper had been left standing in the middle of his living room with his hands on his hips. He stewed for a moment. "I've had about enough of this." Walking over to the phone, he dialed a number. "This is McIntyre. I'm ready to meet. Yes, now. Name the place. Yes, I know it. It's in a pretty seedy part of town."

"People around there don't care what you're talking about as long as you don't care what they talk about. Comprende?"

"Yeah, I get it," snapped Trapper. "I'm on my way now."

"Why the hurry all of a sudden?"

"Someone just hit me with a car. I have the distinct feeling it was a message."

After he hung up the phone, Trapper trotted up the stairs and opened his closet. Reaching low and deep into a corner, he pulled out a bag, tossed it on his bed and unzipped it. He stopped and thought, then took out a handful of cash and sorted it. He wanted large bills so it wouldn't fatten his wallet. Ordinarily, he wouldn't risk carrying that much cash in large bills on his person, but he was sure he would be giving it away very soon.

Circling the block, Trapper looked for a parking space close to the club where his transaction would take place. He found one a block away. After locking his car, he looked around him at the trash blowing down the street and against the feet and legs of the bums sitting on the sidewalk and leaning back against the walls of the buildings.

"Hey man! Can you spare a buck?"

Trapper stopped and looked at the man looking up at him from the sidewalk. "And what will you buy with it?"

The man snorted. "What do you think?"

"I'll buy you a meal if you're hungry," said Trapper, pointing into the little deli in front of him.

When an assortment of curse words flew up from the sidewalk, Trapper shook his head and walked away, slowing his pace as he came closer to the bar. He wasn't looking forward to this meeting, but it seemed it was a necessary evil if he was going to find Leah. The man he was to meet came highly recommended by an acquaintance who made it his business to know what he was talking about. Sucking in a deep breath, Trapper pulled the door open and stepped in. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, then looked around, heading for a table in the front corner where he had been told to go. No one was sitting at the table when he arrived, but after a waitress asked for his order, a nicely dressed, clean-cut young man slid into the seat opposite him, smiled at the waitress and ordered a scotch, neat, speaking in a British accent. Trapper ordered a glass of tea only because his throat was so dry he could feel a coughing fit coming on.

"You're McIntyre?"

Nodding, Trapper asked, "You?"

"Name's Peter...Mitchell. Al Shaefer said you were okay."

"And how do you know Mr. Shaefer?"

"I do some work for him from time to time. The last time he asked, he wanted to know everything about one Douglas Taylor Manning."

"I know enough about him. I just want to find him."

The waitress delivered the drinks. "We don't run tabs here."

 _Good thing I put small change in my pocket_ , thought Trapper as he tossed a ten on the tray.

Leaning forward, Peter said in a low voice," If you knew him, you wouldn't be looking for him. You'd be thanking your lucky stars you were far away from him."

"Did Albert tell you why I'm looking for Manning?"

"No. He said that would be your decision."

Trapper looked around the room. The man at the table next to them was sound asleep, his head down on the table, his fingers still clutching the glass of whatever rot gut he was drinking. A woman in a loose shirt and torn short-shorts who came into the bar after Trapper was plying her trade at the bar, and from the looks of it would be delivering the goods right there in a booth. Bowing his head, Trapper clenched his teeth.

"Dr. McIntyre, I can see you're uncomfortable here, but this _is_ the safest place to talk. Let me tell you what I already know. " Raising his head, Trapper met the man's eyes. "You're already being watched." Trapper sat up straight and flared his nostrils. "The reason I asked you to come here is because any of Manning's people would stick out like a sore thumb here. You're looking for him. He's watching you. This is just bad all the way around."

"Then why are you getting involved?"

Peter chuckled. "In my line of business, Doctor, there are no good people. You get used to dodging. Excuse me for a moment." Peter returned carrying a bowl of popcorn, which Trapper scowled at. "Don't worry. They just popped it."

Taking a handful, Trapper told his story right down to the part where they had determined his fiancé was alive. "Earlier today, I saw a man with a camera in the park across from my house. When I went to confront him, I was hit by a car. That car could easily have injured me seriously, but the FBI agent who was with me convinced the police to let her question him. That means she thinks it was one of Manning's men."

"She would be right. The camera was for your fiancé's benefit. The car was to show her what would happen to you if she doesn't cooperate. So who's your fiancé?

"Leah Haverty."

Peter whistled. "The first lady of Manning Consulting."

The muscles of Trapper's jaws flexed. "What do you mean by that?"

"She's been Manning's meal ticket. It's her expertise that's made him his nest egg. Now, he's gotten greedy going after the bigger, dirtier money. It doesn't surprise me he's decided to take her with him. The problem is, she has to do whatever he says or he'll kill you. And she won't be able to cheat. He's tech saavy enough to know."

"How do you know so much about Manning?"

"I used to work for him. I was with him when he first hired Ms. Haverty, and I watched her rise quickly through the ranks. I was the one who investigated her before he hired her. I was the one who investigated her government work."

"Her government work wasn't that critical. She did an inventory at Redstone, and then worked on the displays at George Marshall Space Flight Center."

"That's what most people know. That's what the government says...publicly. And it's true." Peter met Trapper's eyes and studied him. Could Trapper be trusted to keep his mouth shut? He'd have to. Leah's life depended on it. If the government thought for one minute that their defense security and encryption was in jeopardy, they'd kill her the first chance they had. "She designed most of the DOD's security protocols and encryption."

"And you gave that information to Manning?" Trapper hissed.

"No. I left. No letter, no note, no phone message. I just left."

Trapper sat back and twirled his empty glass. "Do you know where she is?"

Shaking his head, Peter said, "No, but I have an idea where he's going."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

Raising his eyebrows, Peter now sat back in his chair. "There is no we, Doctor. If you'll remember, you're being watched."

"Well, Manning knows you, so what exactly do you suggest?"

"We go see Albert."

Trapper rolled his eyes. "Albert's an attorney."

"Dr. McIntyre, wouldn't you think the government would want to know what the person responsible for the DOD's security protocols and encryptions was doing?"

Turning his head, Trapper looked sideways at Peter. "Albert works for the DOD?"

"He's been reporting what he's seen to the DOD. He's also been gathering people who have a knack for finding...things. We'll be meeting them in oh...about..." Peter looked at his watch. "Ten minutes. Some of them are already here."

Trapper glanced at the hooker now sitting with her john in a booth on the opposite side of the bar.

She winked at him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Peter led Trapper down a hall at one side of the bar. At the end of the hall was another door besides the restroom doors they had already passed. This door was marked office, but when they entered, Trapper realized it was much more than that. There were actually two doors, one at the back wall of the building holding the bar, and another entering the back of the building built right up against the one they were in. They walked down another long hallway through another set of doors, and then went down darkened stairs and into a large room lit only by a few bare light bulbs. At first they were alone, but slowly others trickled in; the bartender, the hooker and her john from the booth, and the man who had asked him for money on the sidewalk as well as a few others.

Turning to Peter, Trapper raised his eyebrows. "Did you clear the sidewalk?"

Peter laughed. "No, there's still plenty of destitute people out there."

"What now?" asked Trapper, looking from one grimy face to another, each one smiling or winking back.

"We wait for Albert."

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It was difficult to tell whether it was day or night on the yacht. Leah was in a stateroom below deck, and other than the low light from the lamps around the room, the only natural light she'd seen was that coming through the door when someone entered.

There was no light when the doctor came into the stateroom, telling her it was still dark outside. He slipped in silently and watched her, and though she hadn't moved, he got the distinct impression she was watching him. "You're awake." He was met with silence.

Walking to the side of the bed, he looked into the fiery eyes looking back at him. "Why didn't you say something?"

She snorted. "I have nothing to say, and when I do speak, no one listens."

"Why don't we at least try a good mood today," the doctor said, flipping several switches on the machinery around her, creating an annoying hum.

"Why should I?" she asked indifferently.

"Two reasons," he said, busying himself with recording the readings on her monitors. " If you don't do as he says, he'll kill your Dr. McIntyre. And if you don't try, you'll never get any better, and then you won't have any chance at escape."

The flash of her eyes told him he'd gotten her attention.

"Not that I can help you. I certainly don't want to become chum. In addition, he pays me quite well. But even I know my usefulness is short-lived. I would like to know that I was able to help you before it's time for me to go."

She hadn't moved a finger, but her eyes were bright and alert. "Go where?"

He smiled. "I'm not going to tell you or anyone else."

Taking a deep breath, she slowly moved to her side, though by the time she made it, she was panting. "How am I going to get any better. I can barely move."

"We are going to start working on that." He walked across the room and set her chart on a table, then opened a cabinet and removed a syringe and a vial.

Just as she had caught her breath from the strain of her movements, her breathing quickened again. "What is that?"

"Relax," he answered, pulling the liquid from the vial into the syringe. "The problem with your inability to control your muscles is in your brain, not your muscles. You see, the cocktail you were given essentially overloads parts of your brain. They shut down, and apparently they need help waking back up." Walking back to the side of the bed, he held up the syringe. "This is Benzedrine. It's an amphetamine that will stimulate the neural activity in your brain. With associated exercise, you should eventually regain control of your muscles."

"Should? And what if I don't?"

"Then you will most likely have very little control over your body for the rest of your life...which will be short. If Mr. Manning can't use you, he'll...ah...dispose of you."

"Aren't amphetamines addictive?" she asked, her eyes widening the closer he came with the syringe.

He inserted the needle into the port of her IV line and pushed the plunger all the way in. "Yes. But you can avoid the addiction if you can get control of your arms and legs." Leaning over her, he continued with a smile. "I can assure you Mr. Manning won't allow me to stop until he sees progress or until I tell him the damage to your brain was too extensive." He straightened. "I'm quite sure you wouldn't want me to tell him that. Now, please relax. Someone will be in shortly to begin your physical therapy."

xxxxxxxx

The sudden whirr of an elevator drew Trapper's attention to the far side of the room. He squinted in the dim light to see who would be stepping out. Indeed who, as three people entered the room, and once they advanced underneath the overhanging bulb, Trapper breathed a sigh of relief, bowed his head...and laughed.

"Albert," Trapper said, extending his hand. "I expected you. You two," he said, raising a chin in the direction of the two people who accompanied him, "never crossed my mind. What are you doing here?" His smile left as his eyes narrowed.

"It's really quite simple, John," said Albert. "Leah will no doubt need medical attention when we find her, and you may not be in any shape to adequately provide it. Dr. Gates and Nurse Shoop were the logical choices. You trust them, and they have some experience under fire. They also have some experience with the issues we know."

"And what about the ones we don't?" asked Trapper with his hands on his hips. He'd decided he didn't like the idea of his friends being involved, especially when they were up against a madman.

In her smooth Jamaican voice, Ernie said, "Did you think we were just going to let you go off half-cocked?"

Trapper closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he gave her a curt answer. "Ernie, he's not the North Koreans or the Viet Cong. We knew our enemies then. He's something...worse. And we won't be in a M.A.S.H unit. I can't let either one of you get involved," he said, looking from Ernie to Gonzo and back.

"It's too late, Trapper. We are whether you like it or not. Besides, you're not her doctor. I am," said Gonzo, smiling. "And we don't work for you at the moment. You're on leave."

"Worrying about Leah surviving is one thing. He already has her. What am I supposed to do if he kills one," he glared at Gonzo, then turned to Ernie, "or both of you?"

"And what are we supposed to do if he kills you and keeps Leah?" said Ernie with a bite. "We are not going to argue with you. We're in this, and you don't have a say in the matter."

Trapper turned his glare on Albert. "It's my operation, John. If you want to go along, that's fine, but if you cause trouble, I'm prepared to leave you behind for your own good." Albert thought if Trapper didn't quit inhaling, he'd blow up. "Let's be clear. The three of you aren't going to be directly involved until we find her and get her away from Manning. You're there for medical support only." He put a hand on Trapper's shoulder. "John, these people know what they're doing. Now, you need to meet them." Turning around, he began to point. "Pauley's the bartender. He does everything having to do with communications. Aggie's the hooker. She's our undercover girl, but don't let her looks fool you. She and Pop over there," he said, pointing at the man who'd asked Trapper for money, "are munitions experts. Frazier here," said Albert, touching the shoulder of the john from the bar, "is our computer technician, and Delgado," he said, pointing at the drunk from the bar, "is our psychologist. He's been working with Peter and studying the business moves Manning's made for the last few years. The rest are support. Some are sailors, some are jacks of all trades. They do what needs to be done, and they take the lead from these guys," he said, indicating those he'd introduced.

"What about you?" asked Trapper.

"I'll be right here watching what the FBI and CIA are doing and feeding Pauley information."

"The CIA?" Trapper crooked his jaw. "Don't you work for the same government?"

"CIA…NSA…someone attached to the U. S. government. John, the plutonium Manning's trying to sell is the DOD's responsibility which is most likely carried through the NSA. The CIA's only purpose is to make sure no government secrets are revealed, and the best way to do that is to..." Albert's brow furrowed. "...is to stop the leak by any means possible. Either way, we're talking about a black ops operation from one of these agencies."

Trapper's skin crawled. It seemed they had two enemies. "If we find her first, what's to stop the government from eliminating the possible leak anyway."

"The three of you. The nation is watching this story, John. The government can't risk the three of you disappearing or talking. It will bring up too many questions."

Looking back at Albert disgustedly, Trapper moved his hands to his hips. "So it was your job to watch her. Just how long have you been doing that?" He shook his head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. She trusted you, Albert. Apparently both of them did."

"Trapper, I've been keeping the CIA and the NSA at bay since she left the government's employment."

"Why? What is she to you?"

No one in the room ever thought they'd witness Albert lose his temper...until now. "She was John's wife," he yelled. "John and I served together in Korea. We _survived_ together in Korea. I made him a promise, and I intend to keep it."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Trapper and Albert had glared at each other for several minutes while everyone else in the room held their breath. Finally, Trapper turned and walked away, drawing his hand down over his face. "I don't care what she knows. I don't care how difficult it is. Just tell me how you plan to get me anywhere if Manning's people are following me?"

"They've lost you. They have no idea you've left the bar," answered Albert.

"And how do you know that?"

"I still have someone in the bar. No one has come in." Albert moved to the middle of the room, nodding to individuals who gathered around either Gonzo, Ernie or Trapper. "You'll leave from here in separate vehicles, each going in opposite directions. Nurse Shoop has picked up some things from your house, Trapper, so you have everything you need. Dr. Gates has given us a list of medical equipment that might be needed, and we've had it installed on a catamaran waiting in international waters. Dr. Gates and Nurse Shoop will go out on separate boats."

Standing in front of Trapper, Albert continued. "You, Frazier and Delgado are heading for the airport where you'll board a chopper. You'll be flown to the helipad at the hospital where Mr. Slocum will deliver the drugs and some other equipment Dr. Gates ordered."

Trapper had clasped his hands in front of him and stood quietly listening. Now he lifted his eyes to meet Albert's. "Arnold knows?"

"We had to have his help to get the medication and equipment quickly."

"You've put his position at the hospital at risk."

"He understood the risks, Trapper."

Trapper simply nodded. How could he argue knowing his friends had risked everything to help?

"After you confirm you have everything you need, the chopper will take you somewhere near the ocean where you'll spend a night to make sure no suspicions have been aroused. The next day, if there are no problems, you'll load everything onto Zodiacs that will take you out to the cat. Once there, you'll wait for instructions."

Taking a deep breath, Trapper looked up at the ceiling. "What instructions?"

"We need to confirm where they're going. Once we do, you'll be on your way. But we'll still have to figure out how to get her out. Manning will be heavily guarded. If we can take her off the boat, we will. If not, wherever he goes, she'll be with him." Albert waited for some indication of understanding before he continued. Trapper gave him a short nod. "We know he's used some pretty nasty drugs on her. He may not have stopped there. Whatever condition she's in when we get her, it will be up to you three to evaluate her and do what you can. But Trapper, you know all about her heart condition. You know the drugs he's used has put a strain on that heart. You need to accept that you might not be able to save her even if we can get her back."

"Albert, I realize you're preparing me for the worst, but wouldn't he protect her health if he intends to keep using her?"

"I suppose he would...until she either becomes a liability or he can't use her any longer." Albert had turned away, but stopped. "Or if she tries to cross him."

Trapper met Albert's eyes. Both men knew she would fight Manning. Both men knew she wasn't particularly attached to her own life. How long she stayed alive would depend on how important she was to Manning's plans.

In the helicopter, Trapper had nothing to do but think. And the more he thought the more he wished he could stop because none of his thoughts led to anything good. He had seen her fingers fly across a computer keyboard almost as if they had a mind of their own. If her mind really worked that swiftly, if her thoughts somehow flowed out the ends of her fingers, he was sure what he'd seen barely scratched the surface.

Before he knew it, the helicopter had settled on the helipad and Arnold was already on his way to the chopper pushing a rolling cart in front of him. The door opened at his side. He looked first, then climbed down, happy to have his feet on something solid, if only for a few minutes.

Arnold looked at Trapper with eyes full of concern. "This is everything on Gonzo's list," he yelled to be heard over the whirr of the helicopter. "Here's the list."

Trapper was silent as he checked the list against the items on the cart. "Arnold, I need a few more things; four spinal needles, fifteen milliliters of digoxin and fifteen milliliters of adrenaline."

Nodding, Arnold yelled, "I'll be back in a few minutes."

While they waited for Arnold, Trapper supervised the loading of the equipment, medications and implements onto the helicopter. When one piece of equipment landed hard, Trapper shouted, "That's a quarter of a million dollar piece of equipment! Be careful!"

Frazier and Delgado shared a guarded glance, but continued to load.

Arnold returned and handed a package to Trapper. "It's all there, Trapper. Gloria packed it."

Though Trapper had never had a problem looking Arnold in the eye in the past, he couldn't bring himself to do it now, feeling very small and humbled at the risks Arnold was taking, not only to his job, but to the hospital. "Arnold, I..." He moved his hand to Arnold's shoulder, and finally met his eyes. "Thank you. I have no idea how long this is going to take. You should find another Chief of Surgery."

"The board is already pressuring me to do that, and I suppose I'll have to. But it's going to take someone very impressive to fill your shoes, and even then, I'm only going to offer a probationary position. Once we hire someone you have six months to get back. I'll get word to Albert when that six months begins. That's all I think I'll be able to do, Trapper," Arnold said apologetically. He really didn't want to lose the best Chief of Surgery he'd ever had, nor did he want to lose a friend, but he was governed by the hospital board, a group that was all business and no heart.

"Arnold, if I don't get to her before six months time..." Trapper bowed his head.

Moving his hand to Trapper's shoulder, Arnold bowed his head with Trapper, squeezed his shoulder, and then backed away. "God speed, John."

Once back in the chopper, Trapper had no idea where they were going. He knew they were going north, and as it turned out, they didn't go very far. On the northwest side of the Golden Gate bridge in the Marin Headlands there were bunkers hidden everywhere, some up on the tops of the mountains, some right on the beaches where beaches existed, and others planted firmly on the steep sides of those mountains somewhere between the top and the ocean below. They landed on top of an abandoned bunker hidden back away from the beach at Kirby Cove.

After supervising the unloading of the helicopter, Trapper, Delgado, Frazier, and the pilot, Davies, who was one of the support people from the warehouse, followed a trail behind the bunker that led to a campground where military-style tents were waiting for them.

"We'll be staying here tonight, Dr. McIntyre," said Eliseo Delgado.

Trapper looked around him. There were five tent pads he could see at the site of their tents, but looking around the lightly treed opening extending at least 200 yards further in, he saw another three empty campsites. "This is a campground. Aren't you afraid we'll be seen?"

Delgado shook his head. "We reserved all four campsites, and we've locked the gate at the top of the road. No one will be driving down here, and if anyone thinks they're going to walk, we have someone at Battery Wagner halfway up the road who will encourage them to turn around and go back. It's really too late for hikers to come down here, anyway."

"Encourage," thought Trapper, smiling, though there was nothing funny about it. He felt like he was back in the military himself. It seemed Albert's people had contingencies for their contingencies.

"This is your tent, Dr. McIntyre. Frazier and I will be in the tents on either side of you." Turning and pointing, he added, "The latrine's over there."

Squinting in the waning daylight, Trapper was just able to make out the shingled top of a building in deep shade.

"It's a vault, and there's no running water, but we have water for washing in another tent," said Delgado.

"I'm not really tired," said Trapper. "Mind if I look around?"

"Sure, but don't go out of sight of camp. One of the guys will be watching you with instructions to find you if you disappear."

Trapper remembered the MPs from his M.A.S.H days. They spoke very matter-of-factly without much inflection in their voices, and they generally stood just like Delgado was standing now, his feet spread at about shoulder width with his hands folded in front of him. "Albert said you were a psychologist. What branch did you serve in?"

Delgado smiled and looked down at his shoes for a moment. "It's still that obvious, huh?"

Trapper gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded.

"Marines. I spent the last six months of my tour in a hospital recovering from gunshot wounds, and after that, finished my studies on VEAP."

"You're too young to have seen any fighting."

"Operation Frequent Wind, Sir. Our mission was to evacuate refugees and US Nationals from Vietnam. The general public was told the fighting had stopped, but there were holdouts in the jungles. The Viet Cong continued to fight that war for several years after the ceasefire was declared." Pausing for a deep breath, Delgado said, "You should take your walk now, doctor. It'll be dark soon, and dinner will be ready shortly." Delgado watched as Trapper turned and headed up a trail. He was the one charged with watching Trapper for the evening.

Trapper hadn't gotten very far when he stopped and looked up. The area was a depression between two steep mountains, one covered with scrub and bushes, but the other dark and lush with tall cypress and fragrant eucalyptus. The trees within the campground were mainly cypress with foliage high above shading the entire campground. It was probably one of the more beautiful and peaceful places he'd seen in the Headlands. He smiled at the thought of bringing Leah here for a long weekend, then cast his eyes down and frowned. The possibility of that was far from certain at the moment. He didn't hear Delgado approach, and just as he raised his hand to rub his temples, Delgado spoke, causing Trapper to jump.

"I didn't meant to startle you, doctor. Dinner is ready."

"That was fast," said Trapper, turning and walking with Delgado.

"Sir, you've been wandering around the area a little over an hour."

Raising his brows, Trapper gave Delgado a questioning look to which Delgado answered with a nod.

Trapper had expected military rations, but was pleasantly surprised at the sight of steaks searing over the campfire. Along with that was corn still in the husk and potatoes, carrots, onions and butter sizzling in foil wrappers. When the wine appeared, he laughed.

"Come on, Doc," said Frazier. "We're _ex_ -military. Albert rewards us for a job well done."

"It's not done yet," said Trapper, sniffing the wine.

"True," replied Frazier. "But a well-fed crew is a happy crew...and a loyal one. Cheers," he said, holding up his glass. "To another successful mission."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

"How did the session go?"

The doctor clasped his hands behind him and looked down at the floor before he answered. Raising his head without looking directly at Manning, he said quietly, "I don't feel it's a necessary risk at this point. Any kind of electrical stimulation of her muscles could affect her heart...for the worse."

Manning heaved a breath and shot his doctor a menacing scowl. "I didn't ask your opinion. I specifically told you to use it. She has to be on her feet; she has to be in complete control of herself by the time we arrive. You're running out of time, Doctor, so let me make this perfectly clear. If you run out of time without accomplishing the task at hand..." Manning looked in a mirror as he drew himself to full height and smoothed a lock of hair that had fallen over his ear. His lips peeled off his teeth into a threatening smile. "Time will have run out for you. Do we understand each other?"

The doctor took a slow, deep breath and clenched his teeth before he spoke. "I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. If I do, there's a good chance you'll irreparably damage her heart, and you'll kill me having no more use for me. And if I don't, you'll likely replace me, and the authorities will find pieces of flesh that were once attached to my body floating about."

After what seemed like a long silence to the doctor, Manning let out a low chuckle. "You're right, you know. About what will happen to you. So the best thing you can do, Doctor, is ensure that she has complete control of her body before we arrive, however you do it. Perhaps I'll let you walk away." He unbuttoned his jacket and sat down at his desk, leaning back and gloating. "I'd get to it."

The doctor didn't wait for any more conversation. He turned on his heels and left Manning's stateroom, heading back to the quarters below deck where Leah Haverty was...imprisoned. "Yes," he thought. "We're both prisoners of a madman. Perhaps we can help each other survive this."

As he walked to Leah's quarters, Mark Hansen fell in behind him carrying a guitar case. "What's that for?" asked the doctor.

"Leah plays guitar," answered Mark. "She's actually very good at it. I thought having this might make things...easier...for her."

The doctor stopped at the door, but before he opened it, he turned and looked at the guitar case. "She plays well, does she?" Mark nodded. "And she enjoys it?"

"Tremendously. She says it helps her think clearly when there's too much coming at her."

"Very well. You may give it to her," the doctor said as he opened the door and motioned for Mark to enter.

Leah was sitting up in her bed reading a book. There hadn't been much for her to do in her conscious moments, and she had been restless and understandably impertinent, so the doctor loaned her some of his novels.

At first, she saw nothing but Mark...and red. This was the first time she'd seen him since she woke up, but it didn't surprise her that he was on the ship. Manning had used him before. It made perfect sense that he'd be using him now. But for what? Or maybe he'd already done whatever Manning had put him up to. Her lip curled in disgust, and as soon as she opened her mouth to berate him, she noticed the guitar case.

Instead of telling him off, she looked forward and said coldly, "What do you want?" In her head, she continued, "You backstabber."

Slowly stepping forward, Mark held up the guitar case before he set it on the side of the bed and opened it. "I thought I'd make a peace offering. I can imagine how bored you must be here."

"No, you can't imagine, Mark. You can't even begin to."

Biting his lip, Mark laid several picks on the guitar. "Maybe once you feel better..."

"Let me make something clear, Mark," she said, scowling. "I could care less if you fell off this boat today and were devoured slowly by sharks. I would never give you another thought. I don't know what Doug promised you, but if it was me, you'll NEVER have me."

Doug's voice made everyone quickly look toward the door of the room. "Tch tch tch. Leah, never say never. Once you're able to sit in front of a computer and move your fingers, Mark will be assisting you."

She smirked. "If I fully recover from what you've done to me, I won't need his assistance. He'll just be in the way. And I will not be teaching him anything else."

Doug chuckled. "Well, if you won't need him, I certainly won't. His fate is in your hands."

Leah's insolent smile turned into a malevolent glare. She wasn't sure she could live with having been the cause of anyone's death, even Mark's...except for maybe Doug, who quietly left.

"Leah, playing the guitar would be good exercise for your fingers," said the doctor. "You know he'll kill you if you can't do what he wants, don't you? He'll kill all of us."

Closing her eyes, she cocked her head and shook it silently wishing she'd never been introduced to computers. She tossed the book away angrily. "Mark, before you got here, did you see Trapper? Did you speak to him?"

"Yes, I did." He looked at her with a triumphant smile as he was about to give her a reason to keep them all alive. "He's looking for you, Leah."

Her eyes quickly met his. "I thought you told Doug the ruse of my death was successful."

"I did. Trapper told me he was looking for your murderer, so even if he didn't still believe you were dead, he'd be looking for Doug."

"Then what makes you think he would be looking for me?"

Mark snorted. "He wasn't mourning you. He was his usual self when I spoke to him, except that I could tell he was very angry. And he's working with the FBI. It took a lot of walking, but I was finally able to lose their tail on me. If they didn't think you were alive, why would they be working so hard to find Doug for murder? It would be just another murder out of thousands."

"Well," said the doctor, smiling since it appeared Mark had given her a reason to continue living. "It sounds like you're going to be playing that guitar."

"Not now," she replied quietly. "I'm tired. If you don't mind, I'd like to rest awhile." With that, she turned over presenting her back to them and didn't say another word. She heard the click of the door latching in another minute, and let her body relax. So Trapper knew she was alive. And he was working with the FBI, so they were looking for her. She allowed a smile to form and wiped a tear from her cheek. Was she being foolish in thinking he would move Heaven and Earth to find her? He'd tell Albert. He'd know he could trust Albert, and Albert would make sure Trapper had all the money he needed to find her. But it wouldn't be the FBI helping him. The CIA or the NSA handled international affairs. Her head was beginning to hurt, and she closed her eyes and slowly blew out the breath she was holding. Trapper would find the best help money could buy with Albert's help, and based on only a glimpse of what Albert could do, she knew Albert would find whatever help Trapper needed.

Allowing sleep to creep up on her, she decided just before succumbing that she wouldn't hold back in her afternoon exercise session. She would show Doug she had made some progress and see how long she could keep him hanging on before she let them know just how much better she really was.

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The standard issue army cot Trapper slept on was everything he remembered from his M.A.S.H days - uncomfortable, short, narrow...and uncomfortable, prompting him to rise before first light. He didn't have any of his clothes with him. He assumed they had already been taken to the boat. But he was able to wash his important parts, trim his beard and after breakfast, brush his teeth. Breakfast was, like dinner, a feast with eggs made to order, bacon, biscuits with gravy, and a variety of fruit. The coffee was good, too; nothing like he remembered from his military days.

Someone else would be striking camp, and that was fine with him. In fact, when he got down to the beach where the Zodiacs waited, most of the medical equipment and supplies they had brought from the hospital was loaded. The drugs that needed to be kept cool were safely packed in a cooler.

"Good morning, Dr. McIntyre. You ready to leave?" asked Delgado.

"Anxious would be the word to describe how I feel," he answered with raised brows.

"Can't tell it," said Frazier from one of the Zodiacs. "You seem like you're about to go out for a day of fishing."

Trapper stood on the beach in front of a Zodiac, looking east. Without looking back, he removed his sunglasses and squinted at the sun. "I am. For barracuda."

Frazier smiled. "Well, let's move then. We've got a boat to catch."

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Ernie looked across the breakfast table at Gonzo, then followed his eyes as he looked out over the water. "What do you see?"

"Water. Nothing but water."

"I thought they'd be here by now," she said worriedly. "You think he's all right?"

Gonzo removed his sunglasses. "Albert was set on including us...including him. He'll make sure he's all right. Besides, it's still early."

"You know that means he's expecting the worse where Leah is concerned," said Ernie as she nibbled at an English muffin.

"Who, Trapper?" asked Gonzo, leaning back in his chair. "Of course he is. The drugs alone could have killed her."

"No, I meant Albert."

Moving his hand to his face and rubbing his chin, he asked, "Did Albert say anything to you about why he's doing this?"

"Not really." Ernie leaned forward, propping her elbow on the table. "But he told me Trapper was going and he could use my help. Trapper spoke with Albert for several hours before Albert approached me. I had no reason not to trust him." Lifting a glass of juice, she sat back. "In fact, I have every reason to trust him. Trapper's throwing away his career to find her."

"And so are we."

She smiled. "I'm sure your reasons are about the same as mine."

Gonzo had been looking at her eyes, but he suddenly looked past her. He pushed himself up from his chair. "They're here."

Twisting in her chair, Ernie looked behind her. Seeing the Zodiacs approaching the boat, she stood and waited at the rail with Gonzo while the boats slowed and, one at a time, trolled under the back of the cat where lifts raised them out of the water. It was only another minute that Trapper was standing on the forward deck with Gonzo and Ernie.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"We were starting to worry, Trapper," said Ernie as she gave Trapper a warm hug.

After giving her a quick peck, he smiled. "Why would you worry?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because Doug Manning's a smart man and just might know more than Albert thinks he knows."

"Well, if that's true, we'll know soon. I don't think he'll want us getting too close."

"Doc, if you'll come with me, I'll show you to your room," said Delgado. As Ernie and Gonzo fell in line behind Trapper, Delgado continued, "It's right next to the room where we've installed all the medical equipment. I'm sure you'll want to check it over and find places for the equipment we brought with us. And you'll need to make sure you have everything you think you'll need, because once we're on our way, we won't be able to get anything else."

Trapper did no more than duck his head inside his room. He was more anxious to see the medical suite. Stepping inside the stateroom, he turned all the way around as he observed the room. "It's a big room. More room than I thought we'd have on a ship."

Delgado smiled and bowed his head, assuming the standard military 'at ease' position. "When we mention a cat, people automatically think about a cramped vessel with a net between the hulls. This configuration allows us some easy mobility moving off and on, and she glides over the water. She's fast, and she's maneuverable." He headed for the door. "I'll leave you medical types to look over the room. Let us know if anything isn't right, and we'll get it handled."

"When do we leave?" asked Gonzo.

"When we have a direction to go. Albert's working on it."

xxxxxxxx

Leah arrived in a wheelchair on the deck where exercise equipment had been set up. There wasn't much. As far as the doctor knew, there wasn't much she could do. And looking at her now, he wasn't sure she would even be able to get out of the chair. She was bent, her upper body curled down toward her lap. Her arms where oddly skewed in her lap as if they were haphazardly placed there. Her head was bowed and cocked to one side, and her eyes were closed as if the movement of the chair made her ill.

When the chair came to a stop, Leah opened her eyes and looked up at the doctor before she looked over the deck moving only her eyes. "Are we expecting someone else?" she said faintly.

"No, of course not," answered the doctor.

"Then who's going to use all this equipment? I can't even get out of this chair by myself, thanks to Manning...and you."

"You'll have help." The doctor motioned for two men who had been standing near a bulkhead to come forward. One lifted Leah out of the chair and placed her in a contraption that resembled a chair, but had weights behind and below her. They strapped her arms down at the wrists and elbows and her legs at the ankles and just above and below her knee.

"Now, Leah. The straps are not to tie you down as much as they will prevent you from injuring your joints. We'll try this without any weight at all, and when you're comfortable just running the cables, we'll add a little weight."

Leah simply stared at him.

Leaning forward, the doctor spoke at her ear. "Leah, it would be very easy for you to just disappear over the rail here. I would never do that, but these men work for Manning, and they're certainly strong enough to lift you over the rail. Remember, they lifted you out of the chair as if you weighed nothing."

"How much do I weigh right now, Doc? I'll bet it's close to nothing."

The doctor moved away and reached for the lead patches from an EKG machine. Unbuttoning her blouse, he began pressing the patches on the appropriate areas of her skin.

She tensed and glanced up at the man who had placed her in the infernal machine. "So much for modesty, huh Doc."

"Don't worry about him. He's a nurse. He's seen it all. I'm hooking you up to a heart monitor, Leah. I want to make sure you're not putting undue strain on your heart while you exercise." He placed the last of the patches on her , and then stepped back. "Now, we begin. We'll start with your right arm and move clockwise to your right leg, your left leg and then your left arm. All I want you to do is try to raise them. Don't worry about raising them straight up. The machine will do that for you. This will just help work your muscles."

She held her breath for a moment. How much should she show them? She had come out in a heap like yesterday's dirty laundry. If she lifted too much or if she made it look too easy, they'd know she wasn't as broken as she'd let on.

"Leah, this isn't as daunting as it seems. Just try," coaxed the doctor. "I need to be able to say something positive to Manning. He's losing his patience."

Studying her right hand, she asked, "So where are we?"

Noting her concentration on her right arm, the doctor straightened up and clasped his hands in front of him. "I really have no idea. I've seen nothing but water for the last few days. And sun. It's a good thing we're not on a sailboat. There's been no wind to speak of." He smiled when he saw the cable begin to move. "That's good, Leah. Now, try your right leg."

By the time Leah's exercise session was over, she was honestly tired. Still, she asked for the guitar once she was settled back in her bed. She held it against her and let her hand rest on the strings for awhile before she raised her left hand and wrapped her fingers around the neck. For the next half hour, she worked on making her fingers form a C chord.

The doctor watched from the porthole of her room, smiled and shook his head as he left for Manning's stateroom. He didn't have to knock. Manning was waiting for him with the door opened.

"Ah, Doctor. You seemed to be pleased with her today, but I saw nothing to be pleased about."

"Oh, but there was plenty to be pleased about, Mr. Manning. She was able to move the cables and do it in a fairly controlled manner. I expect she'll be able to do it more easily tomorrow and the next day. The day after that, we'll had a pound or two. You see, it's not that she's weak, though she is certainly weaker than she was before you took her. She still has fairly decent muscle tone. It's the muscle memory we have to engage. Once we do that, things will go quickly."

"And what about her mind?"

"I believe it's time for Mr. Hansen to install the computer in her room. She's moved to some fairly technical medical books. It seems her mind is thirsty. Until she has control over her fingers, Mr. Hansen can type for her. But there's good news there as well. Mr. Hansen brought a guitar with him, and he's left it with her. As I understand it, she was a fairly accomplished guitar player. She's already trying to play."

Manning had been standing with his back to the doctor, looking over the ocean through a forward window in his stateroom with his hands clasped behind his back. Now he turned and faced the doctor. "And what can you do to speed all this up?"

Looking away, the doctor inhaled deeply, then let the breath out slowly. "I don't have to remind you of where she's been...on the brink of death, if you'll remember. She's already made remarkable progress."

Taking a step toward the doctor, wearing an almost pompous smile, Manning said with just a hint of fondness in his voice. "She was a beautiful, intelligent, elegant woman. She will be accompanying me. She can be nothing less. Do you hear me, Doctor?"

Clenching his teeth, the doctor said nothing. When Manning waved him away, he was glad to leave the stateroom. He headed for his own room, sat down at his desk and began to write, adding details to the timeline for his departure from the ship. At some point, he would be able to give his extractors the location of the ship, something he had not been able to determine as yet. He folded the small piece of paper into ever smaller folds. The note would leave the ship undetected with the next load of bio-hazardous medical waste.

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After dinner with the crew, Trapper wandered out to the stern of the ship and leaned on the taffrail as he followed the wake with his eyes until it eventually blended into the water left behind. They were moving in a direction radioed from the mainland that would take them somewhere someone felt was close. Someone felt...but didn't know. What if it was a wild goose chase? He covered his mouth with his hand, and then drew it back and forth across his beard. He'd cropped it a little closer than usual, the way she liked it as if he would be seeing her soon. And maybe he was, but would she be in any shape to take notice of his beard? Would she be in any shape to move on as if nothing happened? Certainly not. Would she still want to spend the rest of her life with him? His forearms move to the top of the rail as he lowered his head down between them. That was it, wasn't it? He could feel it in his bones. Life after this...life ever after with her was slipping from him with each passing day.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Aroused from a sound sleep by the sudden shudder of the ship, Trapper wasted no time dressing. Rather, he threw his cabin door open and raced down the hallway to the ladder that would take him to the deck, running barefoot and wearing nothing but the gym shorts he'd decided on his first night to sleep in just in case a situation arose when he would need to move quickly. The ship was moving after floating around an anchor for over four days. Delgado said they would move when they had a place to go.

Grabbing hold of the door bar to stop his momentum carrying him beyond the door, Trapper swung into the bridge and stopped, breathing deeply, heart pounding, and unable to speak.

"Whoa, Doc! Where's the fire?" asked Pauley, the communications expert on Albert's team.

"The ship's...moving," said Trapper through deep breaths. "We know where to go?"

Looking at the captain who nodded, Pauley left his station and motioned toward the door. "I'll walk you back to your cabin, Doctor." When they were clear of the bridge, Pauley continued. "We received some non-specific information about several possible destinations, so we still don't know exactly where we're going. But all these places are in the same general area. What we don't know is which side to go into."

"What do you mean 'which side?'" asked Trapper.

"Well, if Manning's going to Iran or Iraq, we'll want to go into the Arabian Sea. But if he's going to Libya, Lebanon or Syria, we have to go into the Mediterranean Sea."

Trapper bowed his head and moved his hands to his hips before he looked back up at Pauley. "That's weeks apart at sea."

Nodding, Pauley wasn't surprised the doctor knew exactly how imprecise their direction was. He moved a hand to Trapper's shoulder. "We know we're going to the Middle East."

"Didn't we already know that?" Trapper said, his brow quirked in anger.

"No, not exactly. We were watching China and Korea as well. But Albert has received some intelligence that rules them out. Chances are we'll know more before we've gone too far in the wrong direction, but for now, we've chosen the Mediterranean."

Trapper breathed, trying to calm himself. A lot was at stake with this decision, and though his emotions were running high after not being able to do anything for so long, he knew these decisions weren't being made lightly.

Sensing Trapper's growing anxiety, Pauley looked both ways down the hallway, then gently shoved Trapper into his cabin. "Do you know your geography, Doctor?"

Trapper met Pauley's eyes and nodded. "Well enough."

"If we go into the Arabian Sea, and our destination turned out to be other than Iraq or Iran, we'd still have to cross Iraq to get to the Mediterranean. But if we go into the Mediterranean, we can go through Turkey if it turns out to be Iraq or Iran. Turkey is friendly, so we won't have any trouble there."

Trapper nodded and ran his hand over his head. "Doc, you're on pins and needles. What can I do for you?"

Snorting, Trapper shook his head. "Nothing on this boat."

"Look, Doc. You're under a lot of pressure back in the real world. What do you do when it starts to get to you."

Trapper scratched his head. "I run."

Pauley straightened. "Then let's get you running. Come with me."

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Doug strolled onto the aft deck during Leah's exercises, staying back and watching as she strained to lift weights while strapped down to what she always referred to as the 'infernal machine.' Today, she was lifting ten pounds, though weights were rising extremely slowly. He couldn't complain. It was ten pounds more than she could lift just four days ago.

His gaze moved from watching the weights to the concentration on her face. There was something missing. As hard as she was working to get those weights up, she wasn't sweating. There wasn't even a hint of moisture on her skin. The muscles in his jaw flexed, even though his outward demeanor never changed, nor did the slight smile disappear from his lips.

He continued to watch and wait throughout her workout. He watched as she was unstrapped from the machine and then lifted and deposited her wheel chair. And when she was wheeled into her stateroom, he stood at the door and watched as she was moved from the chair and carried into the bathroom for a shower.

When the male nurse came out of the bathroom, Doug stepped further into the stateroom. "She doesn't need help in the shower?"

"No sir. She's not standing. We have a seat in the shower. But she can use her arms and hands enough to get the job done without help."

Doug chewed on the inside of his cheek as the nurse remade the bed. He wandered over to the guitar leaning against the wall beside the bed. "I understand she was an accomplished guitar player. Blues, I think. Have you heard her play?"

The nurse chuckled "Yessir. If that's what you'd call it."

"So she's not doing well with that."

"I don't know anything about playing a guitar, Sir, but I would say she's like a child just learning to play. She works mostly on putting her fingers where they're supposed to be. But she does know where they're supposed to be, because she has produced a tolerable sound once or twice."

"I see," answered Doug, nodding. "Where's the doctor?"

"He's in his office. I'll be letting him know when she's settled in her bed, so he can check her vitals."

"Tell him I'd like to see him in my stateroom when he's finished." Doug looked around the room before he left the nurse to his duties.

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Sitting at his desk while speaking to a client on the phone, Albert heard loud voices just outside his office door. "Mrs. Jones, I'll have my secretary call and set up a phone appointment so I can get the details of your complaint. She'll get back to you before the end of the day... You're welcome... Goodbye."

Just as he rose from the desk, the door flew open. Two men entered with Albert's secretary running after them. "I'm sorry, Mr. Shaefer. I told them you were on the phone, but they refused to wait."

"Unless you gentlemen start talking, I'll have Kathy call security," said Albert calmly.

One of the men pulled a badge wallet from his inside jacket pocket, flashing a badge after which he quickly returned it to his pocket.

Albert crossed his arms. "Unfortunately, I don't speed read flashing badges, and therefore, don't recognize your authority. Kathy alert security and ask them to call the police. We have trespassers."

"Mr. Shaefer, we're with the federal government. We'd like to ask you some questions."

Leaning to the side so he could see Kathy standing behind the two men, Albert said, "Kathy, go on and call security and close the door behind you." He waited a moment for his secretary to leave. "Now, gentlemen, you have a few minutes to explain yourselves until security arrives. And I don't care if the President of the United States sent you. You can't just barge in here and expect to get anything."

The two men looked at each other and smirked before they approached Albert's desk. The badge appeared again right in front of Albert's face.

"CIA," Albert said flatly. "What do you want?"

"We want to know the whereabouts of..." The CIA agent pulled a notepad out of his pocket. "Dr. John McIntyre."

Albert shook his head and smiled. "Have you checked San Francisco Memorial Hospital?"

"They said he was on an extended vacation."

"Well, there you have it, gentlemen." Looking at his wristwatch, Albert said as he sat back down in his desk chair, "If you leave now, you might just miss the police."

Both men sat down in the chairs in front of Albert's desk. "Mr. Shaefer, we have reason to believe that you have something to do with Dr. McIntyre's...vacation. And we also think it has something to do with Leah Haverty's disappearance."

Leaning forward, Albert asked, "Considering my client, Ms. Haverty, was deceased when she disappeared, what exactly do you want with her?"

"Schaefer, you've been protecting Ms. Haverty for years. And that was fine as long as she didn't appear to pose a national security threat. We know you know all about Doug Manning. We know you investigated him. Now, Manning's disappeared, Haverty's disappeared, and the good doctor who was about to marry her has disappeared...a doctor who knows all about her heart condition...a doctor who just happens to be a thoracic surgeon."

"Seems you have a tough job on your hands. Any leads?"

"We could take you back to Washington."

"I suppose you could try," said Albert, smiling and leaning comfortably back in his chair. At that moment two men dressed in black military-style uniforms with side arms came through the door and stood at ease behind the two CIA agents. "But your time is up. These officers will escort you out."

Both agents turned their heads to the side and watched as the security officer's hands slid smoothly down to their weapons. As Albert's visitors walked out of the office, Albert followed them and stopped at his secretary's desk. He waited until the outer door was closed, then turned to his secretary. "Kathy, would you ask Dillon to come up. I need to discuss security here and at the house. And I'll need an escort."

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"You asked to see me, Mr. Manning?" asked the doctor as he stepped just inside the door of Doug's stateroom.

Doug looked up from a stack of papers on his desk. He sat back and considered the doctor before he spoke. "Is it possible that she could be...holding back?"

The corner of the doctor's mouth twitched upward. "You saw her working out. She's straining to lift those weights."

Doug smiled. "With all that _straining_ , doctor, you'd think she'd eventually break out into a sweat."

The doctor sucked in the side of his mouth.

"Not to worry, doctor. I'm putting cameras in her stateroom. We'll find out soon enough if she's faking her disabilities. They'll be installed during her afternoon exercises along with a computer. I need her mind back in shape as much as her body."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Albert stepped out of the dim courthouse in the bright sun and stopped a moment to put his sunglasses on. As he did so, he looked around him. It was easy to spot the agents who had been assigned to watch his every move. With him was a client entangled in an ugly divorce from a wife who claimed to have no marketable skills even though she'd been a chef at a well-known eatery before she'd married his client. The judge agreed with Albert's argument, "You don't forget how to cook." He was able to convince a judge the ex-wife was perfectly capable of supporting herself at the same time he uncovered an account in her former name that she'd failed to identify in her assets. They ultimately split what had been acquired during the marriage evenly between them and were each left with whatever they had before the marriage. And even though his assets were much larger than hers, she was unable to prove that she'd given up anything that entitled her to what his client had brought with him.

Albert didn't normally take divorce cases, but he needed to be public and non-political for a while, and what better type of case to serve those needs than a big money divorce. And the celebration party his client was hosting would be the perfect place to pass along the latest information he had on the were-abouts of Doug Manning.

After shaking hands with his client, Albert was escorted down the courthouse steps and into his limousine by two of his private security officers. When he arrived at his office, he was escorted inside by the same security officers, passing additional officers posted at the exterior doors of his offices. Officers were posted at his home as well and were with him everywhere he went.

The CIA couldn't get close, and they were fine with that. Their mission was to ensure Albert was still participating in his normal functions rather than looking for Doug Manning and Leah Haverty. Their agent on board Manning's ship assured the CIA was aware of Manning's moves. As long as Albert was going through his normal routine, they felt sure he wasn't out looking. But Albert was already way ahead of them.

Before leaving for his client's party, Albert spent most of the afternoon in his office with Dillon Rogers, his Chief of Security. Dillon was ex-military and hired only ex-military for Albert's security force, some of those on board the ship heading to the Mediterranean Sea. Knowing he would be heavily scrutinized during this operation, Albert had put Dillon in charge from the beginning. It gave Albert the appearance of business as usual while his security team handled all the arrangements and communications. It was Dillon who intercepted the latest message from Doctor Nolan on board Doug Manning's ship, and from that message, he was able to confirm they were heading into the Mediterranean Sea.

While Albert was at the party, most of his security team were stationed outside, but two were inside. One of those inside was Dillon. The second man hadn't arrived with the rest of the team, but rather came alone, and after the brief conversation he had with Dillon, he had the information he needed to relay to the catamaran that housed the extraction team.

The CIA were so intent on watching Albert, they were completely oblivious of, and frankly annoyed by Albert's security team, considering them more of a nuisance than anything. But thanks to Dillon's efforts, they still had no idea where Manning was going.

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Ernie leaned against the door watching Trapper and Gonzo running on the treadmills. Trapper had run twenty minutes longer than he normally would, and Gonzo was glancing worriedly over at him. Trapper had been coming to the exercise room several times a day. Ernie couldn't blame him. After Trapper had gone over all the medical equipment and pharma on the boat several times, there just wasn't anything else to do. She knew Trapper was not the kind who could just...wait...without something to keep his mind off the waiting.

"Dinner's waiting, you two. Dry off and come on." Turning, Ernie left.

The ship was moving at a decent clip. Still, Trapper avoided the small dining room and walked out on deck. This place he was in physically and emotionally...it wasn't him. He needed to be at his hospital, helping his patients, but he was here chasing... Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, taking in the fine mist of the sea air.

"Is this seat taken?" asked Delgado with his hand on the back of a chair in the dining room.

Ernie smiled and shook her head.

Delgado looked at Gonzo then back at Ernie. "You two look like you've given up."

"Not us," said Gonzo, nodding at Trapper's back on the other side of the window.

Raising a brow, Delgado pointed at Trapper and snorted. "He's not giving up. He's just... It's easy to tell he's the one who usually calls the shots. "

"What makes you think he hasn't given up?" asked Gonzo.

"You two know him better than me," answered Delgado with furrowed brows. He looked back at Trapper. "He's started it. He has to finish it. It's his nature. He'd do the same for either one of you. But for Leah, he'd sell his soul. It's the waiting that's killing him. It's the not knowing."

Ernie leaned forward. "So what can we do?"

Delgado shrugged and bowed his head at the same time Pauley shook his chair. "We give him some news," said Pauley as he headed out on deck. "Dr. McIntyre, we have some new information," he said, motioning toward the dining room.

Trapper's head snapped around when Pauley called him. He followed Pauley into the dining room and stood with his hands on his hips and one of those serious expressions he normally wore when he was planning how to save a patient.

Pauley stood in front of them with his legs apart at shoulder width and one hand over the other in front of him...at ease. "Albert's operatives have intercepted a message from Manning's yacht. They're heading into the Mediterranean. Now, we don't know exactly where yet, but now that we know someone is sending messages, it shouldn't be long before we do know."

"Do you know who's sending the messages?" asked Trapper.

"Yes and no. We don't know exactly who it is, but we do know he's CIA."

Moving his hand from his forehead to the back of his head, Trapper looked up at Pauley without raising his head. "That's not good."

"Well, it's no worse. The informant on the yacht won't do anything until he knows something more definite about where Manning's going. Manning won't be going if something happens to Leah, so the informant will do everything in his power to keep her doing exactly what Manning expects. The other side of that is if Manning finds out this guy is sending messages, he'll kill him."

Trapper nodded and turned toward the interior door.

"Doc, there is some good news. We've intercepted the message. That means the CIA didn't get it. They don't know Manning's going into the Mediterranean."

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Leah woke to voices at the foot of her bed. She lay still, but opened her eyes just a crack and found the doctor and the nurse discussing...something. Whatever it was wasn't apparent except they were talking about wheels...and walking.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Can I assume you're talking about me?" she asked, shifting up in the bed so that she was leaning against the headboard.

The doctor smiled. "Who else would we be discussing?" Turning to the nurse, he said, "Go ahead and take it out."

"Wait. You can't take...I need my wheelchair."

"From now on, Ms. Haverty, you will be walking if you want or need to go somewhere."

Slightly turning her body and crossing her arms in front of her, she replied testily, "More likely crawling."

"You'll have help. And if you don't make some improvements, Manning is the one who'll be taking care of you."

She pushed her hands into the mattress and sat up. "What do you mean?"

"He's convinced you're holding back, and based on his observations, I think he's right."

"Why haven't you said anything before this then?"

The doctor moved to the side of the bed and pushed a peddle to lower it. "Sometimes you can be too close to someone to see what's really going on. And because I believed you were struggling, he's ready to get rid of me and push you himself. Unfortunately, he'll push you physically without the benefit of anyone watching your heart. Now, I want you to get out of the bed by yourself and take care of your morning bathroom business."

"Just like that."

He nodded. "Just like that. You see what you don't know until, of course, now is that Manning's going to be putting cameras in your room."

"What? He can't do that! I'll have no privacy!" she bit, slinging the covers off of her and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She swayed when her feet hit the floor, and when the doctor reached over to steady her, she pushed his hands away.

He stepped back to watch as she took rather jerky steps to the bathroom, leaning on the door frame when she arrived, then disappearing inside.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

When Trapper, Gonzo and Ernie stepped into the tiny dining room, they stopped, first looking around the room, then back at each other with questioning glances. The tables were lining the walls, the chairs were neatly stacked in a corner and the back wall had been removed, making the room twice as long as usual. At the back of the room, the dark silhouettes of shooting targets hung.

"I thought we weren't going to need guns," said Gonzo, slightly cocking his head. With a nervous laugh, he added, "Aren't we just medical personnel?"

Delgado stood with his back and one foot against a wall, his arms crossed in front of him, observing the three without interrupting Aggie or Pop.

Pop was a seasoned military man as evidenced by his gray crew-cut hair, his prominent shoulders, arms and chest development, and the deep lines of a hard life on his face, yet his voice wasn't the gravely bark one would expect went with the exterior. His voice was calm...almost soothing. "We sincerely do not believe any of you will be in harm's way. Unfortunately, as you all know having lived in a M.A.S.H unit, the best laid plans don't always work out. In that case, we want you to be prepared to defend yourselves, maybe even this boat, if Manning or whoever he's dealing with decides to act like the criminals they are. Now, I know you've all had cursory firearms training, so we'll start with what you remember and go from there all the way up to a grenade launcher."

Taking the first gun on the table, Pop held it up. "Trapper, you and Ernie are probably familiar with a Walther P38. That is, unless you own a semi-automatic weapon of your own."

Ernie shook her head, but Trapper spoke up. "I own a .44 Magnum."

"A revolver won't serve you well out here, Trapper. You need something that will hold more rounds and can be reloaded easily. Gonzo, you probably remember the Smith and Wesson 39 or 59."

"59," answered Gonzo.

"That's good," Pop said, nodding. Then you'll be familiar with the 459," he said, holding the weapon up in front of him. I'll work with you and Trapper. Aggie's going to work with you, Ernie. The slide on this gun can be a challenge for woman because of the hand strength required to pull it back. Aggie will show you some different ways you can work around that problem. If you three will step up to the table, we'll make sure you understand how to use a gun safely, and then we'll fire some practice rounds."

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The lunch table was quiet. Pop and Aggie were obviously enjoying their lunch, but none of the three medical people seemed to have much of an appetite.

Delgado finished chewing a bite of sandwich, washed it down with a slug of milk and leaned back in his chair, observing them. "You know, you may not have to use them," he offered, laying the idea on the table for anyone to pick up. No one did. "I know it's hard to imagine shooting someone, possibly killing someone when you've spent most of your lives patching people up."

Ernie had pinched off the edge of the top piece of bread on her sandwich. "When we were trained to use guns before, we were going off to war. This is different."

"Is it?" asked Delgado, sitting up straight. "I don't think it is. Manning is selling nuclear material to a foreign group of people. What other use would they have for it than to create weapons?"

Ernie moved her eyes up to Delgado's. "It's reactor grade plutonium. Maybe they just want to modernize their power systems."

Frazier, who was sitting at the next table, leaned back in his chair. "This stuff is the waste from power production, Ernie. The only thing it's good for is making dirty bombs. Besides that, if they just wanted something to produce power, the US would give them the material they needed and train them to use it. And they wouldn't need Ms. Haverty and her _special_ skills."

"He's right," said Delgado. "The only reason they need Ms. Haverty is to get access to classified material. That makes this a war, granted a small one at the moment, but one that could potentially affect the world if nukes, no matter how dirty they are, are detonated…anywhere."

Trapper reached over and patted Ernie's hand. "The guns are for self-defense, Ernie. If someone was threatening your life, wouldn't you shoot back?"

She rolled her eyes and acquiesced.

"All right then. You need to make sure you can stop them before they shoot you. It's that simple."

Turning toward him, she gave him a doubtful look. "Grenade launchers?"

Standing, Pop went to retrieve another gallon of milk from the refrigerator. "If they're shooting live grenades at you, you betcha. And speaking of guns, Trapper, why a .44 Magnum?"

"House was broken into," Trapper answered, shrugging. "A colleague of mine sold me the gun for protection. Why?"

"A .44 Magnum is useful if you need to stop a bear, but you need to practice with it," said Pop. "It comes with a mighty big recoil. It pretty much guarantees your target won't survive, though. If you want to stop an intruder rather than kill him, you should consider a smaller caliber…like the 9 mil you used today."

Trapper took a deep breath. Deliberately killing wasn't something he enjoyed thinking about, and quite frankly, until today he hadn't given it much thought since he'd had Gonzo in his gun sight over a year ago. He remember the violated feeling he had after being burglarized that drove him to get the gun in the first place, and wondered if he could really shoot someone who was robbing him. Probably not until that someone threatened him physically. "I'll keep that in mind."

Downing his glass of milk, Pop set the glass in the sink next to the refrigerator. "Finish up. We're using rifles this afternoon."

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Manning was standing on the fly deck of his yacht as Leah and the doctor came out of the bowels of the ship onto the deck. He watched as she staggered toward the exercise machines, and when she was right below him, he clapped. "Brava, my dear. Brava!"

Leah stopped and shrugged away from the doctor. "I'm not doing another thing until you and I sit down and talk."

Dropping his hands to his sides, Doug sneered. "You're not in any position to bargain, _my dear_."

She smiled. "Really. What are you going to do, kill me? Better yet, why don't you show me another video of Trapper?"

He said nothing as he glared down at her.

"Check!" she said loudly, turning her back to him.

"Bring her to my office!" he yelled to one of the guards standing on the lower deck. "No need to be gentle."

The guard practically dragged her across the deck and back through door to the inside cabins. Once in Doug's office he unceremoniously tossed her into a chair.

"Get the doctor in here!" Manning shouted.

In another minute, the doctor was shoved into the edge of Doug's desk.

Doug leaned forward and clasped his hands on his desk, nodding toward the guard who brought the doctor in. "Doctor, I think it's time for us to release some ballast."

Before the guard reached the desk, Leah sat up. "I need him. If you kill him, I won't do a damn thing."

"And just why do you need him?" asked Doug, standing over his desk and glowering. "He had no clue what your true condition is?"

She stood and slowly walked to the desk, standing nose to nose with Doug. "He's the only one here who can take care of my heart. If the old ticker goes, there's no more me," she said, glaring back at him.

Baring his teeth, Doug growled. "Get him out of here! Take him back to his cabin."

Leah watched until the doctor had passed through the cabin door. "All of them. Get them all out of here. This is between you and me." She tilted her head and sneered when Doug started laughing.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you gave a set."

She crossed her arms in front of her. "Really. Got a little envy going on there, do you?"

His laughing instantly stopped. "I suppose we could pass insults all day and well into the night. But then I'd never find out what you could possibly have to say that would change anything."

"Then I'll be blunt. Obviously, you need me, and based on what was installed in my cabin, I gather you think I have access to something that enables you to make a deal. Considering I know you stole the plutonium from Xanda Labs, and that you're not the kind of man who would use it for the good of anyone but yourself, I smell a dirty bomb in your future or whoever you sell it to. You don't need me to sell plutonium. So why don't you just tell me what you want from me."

Doug sat down in his desk chair, leaned back and crossed his legs. "I want you get the schematics my clients need to build a missile that can carry a warhead filled with reactor grade plutonium."

Creasing her brows, she sat upright in the chair. "Doug, why would you think I'd know where to get that? A warhead with reactor grade plutonium would have to have some kind of stabilizer built in. I've never seen anything like that."

"I was afraid of that. But it really doesn't matter. You have access to the DOD's computer system. And the schematics for the warhead and stabilizer are stored in that system."

She looked stunned for a moment then chuckled, her chuckle slowly turning into an all out laugh that almost became hysterical.

Doug steamed. "What is so funny?"

"You, Doug, and your pathetic scheme. I don't have access to the DOD's systems. My clearance was revoked the day I started working at the hospital. They might have reinstated it if I had accepted the job at Xanda, but I didn't as you well know."

Smiling smugly, he picked up the receiver of the phone on his desk. "Bring him in," he ordered and hung up.

In only a minute, a guard pushed Mark Hansen through the door.

Leah harrumphed and turned away.

"Now, I know you have no love for Mark, considering what he's done. But he was once your best friend. You considered him your little brother, didn't you?" asked Doug, leaning way over wearing a creepy smile.

She shuddered. "I don't understand. Why is Mark here? He certainly has no idea how to get into the DOD's systems."

"You're right, he doesn't. Let's just say he's your motivation."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Leah furrowed her brow in mock confusion as she looked from Doug to Mark, and then back to Doug. She was silent for a moment, but turned and staggered back to the chair where she slowly lowered herself and got comfortable.

"Motivation. What are you going to do? I need his help on the computer, so you can't break an arm, a hand or his fingers. He'll need to move around, since I can't yet, so you can't break his legs. He also needs his eyes and tongue. So again I ask, what are you going to do?"

Doug nodded, and the guard removed his cigar from his mouth and pressed the hot end onto the top of Mark's shoulder.

When Mark screamed out in pain, Leah pushed herself as quickly as she could up out of her chair. "You keep doing that, and I won't do a thing!" she yelled.

Doug nodded again and soon there was another scream out of Mark.

Leah stepped forward shooting daggers at Doug with her eyes.

"I have his entire torso to work with."

Moving to the desk, Leah spoke quickly, thinking on her feet. "If you keep doing that, he'll die from infection from those burns."

Leaning over the desk, Doug smiled. "That's probably true. But he'll endure a long, slow, painful death before an infection will ever take him. Or perhaps since you saved the doctor, we'll just send him there. The doctor can patch him up and get him ready for more."

Defeated, Leah looked away, her mind racing. She couldn't breach the DOD's systems, even if Mark's life depended on it. That would be treason. But it didn't matter. She'd built those systems to be unbreachable. Even she couldn't do it. Turning toward the door, she limped toward it and said on her way, "Bring him to my cabin. I'll make a list of what I need. That sad piece of crap computer you put in my cabin won't get past the first inquiry. And I'll need Mark to check my list." As she exited the door, she yelled back, "And send the doctor down ready to treat those burns."

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Everyone had gathered on the bow of the ship with a grenade launcher attached to their rifles. Pop had sent several of the men out in Kodiaks to set up some floating targets of different sizes at different distances.

"The hardest part of using a grenade launcher is judging the distance to your target," began Pop. "You can't use them for close quarters. In that case, you'd lob a hand grenade. Your shortest distance for a grenade from a launcher is about forty yards. Your maximum distance with no wind from a launcher the size of those that can attach to a rifle is about one hundred yards. Now ladies, you know how to load the launcher, and you know how to use the sight on the rifle. Let's see how well you judge distance."

The targets started at the minimum distance and were placed every ten yards up to the maximum distance. Some were the size of a nice, cushy arm chair. Others were the size of a couch, and still others were the size of a small yacht, all made of plywood.

Gonzo and Trapper each tried their first grenade, aiming for the most distant target and missing.

Ernie however, aimed for the closest and destroyed it. She smugly smiled their way, receiving a smirk from Gonzo, and a wide grin from Trapper.

"Gonzo, this just goes to show you to leave your testosterone behind," said Pop. "Most small incursions aren't won by physical strength. You have to assume the enemy has as much or more fire power than you on these small strike missions. Precision and surprise will always win."

At the end of the day, each of the three medical personnel had hit several targets, and with grenade launchers finished so it was with their firearms training. In just two more days, they would be entering the Mediterranean Ocean.

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Trapper sat alone under the awning on the forward deck with a pair of binoculars trying to see as much as he could of the towns and cities that lined the shores of the Mediterranean. Unfortunately, that wasn't much as the yacht stayed near the middle of the ocean in the cruise lanes. When Frazier came forward with his own binoculars, Trapper set his aside and watched him for a moment.

"What are you looking for?" Trapper asked.

"Anyone who might be watching us," answered Frazier. Moving the binoculars away from his eyes for a moment, Frazier asked, "What are you looking for?"

Trapper smiled and snorted as he picked up a glass of iced tea from the table next to him. "I'm looking for something...anything," he shrugged, "worth looking at. We're not close enough to really see anything on shore. Why are we in the cruising lanes? It seems we could move faster closer to one side or the other."

"We're out here, Dr. McIntyre, so that we're not close enough to the shore for anyone there to really see anything." Frazier gave Trapper a wry smile.

Chuckling, Trapper replied, "Touche'."

Frazier turned his attention back to whatever he could see through his binoculars. "If anyone is looking for a rescue team, they'll have a hard time finding us here in the middle, and if they are looking and do spot us _and_ figure out who we are, we have a better chance of disappearing among these big ships."

"So what happens when we get to Turkey?"

"If we don't receive any additional information, we wait in Antalya. If we do, we plan our incursion, either to Syria or Libya. My money's on Libya," said Frazier.

Standing, Trapper faced Frazier. "What would Gaddafi want with reactor grade plutonium when he has all the uranium he could possibly need?"

"Plutonium, even waste plutonium, will give him a bomb without waiting for his uranium to be processed, but he's still limited. The plutonium isn't his end goal." Frazier moved a hand to Trapper's arm. "Think about it, Doc. If he could process his uranium and build a bomb, he'd already have done it. He needs someone who knows how or who can find out how."

Covering his mouth with his hand, Trapper closed his eyes, turned his back to Frazier and heaved a heavy sigh. "So it's never been about the plutonium."

Delgado had been standing just on the other side of the deck door and stepped out. "Trapper, Manning couldn't do this on his own. He recognized very early on that he didn't have the personality that gained trust. When he found Leah, he had most of what he needed. People thought of her as trustworthy. She had a way about her that Doug would never have. She made no excuses for her failures the few times she failed, and she was thorough. She just needed the exposure. Doug gave her that. She was the one the Feds wanted for all those government contracts, and they had to go through Manning to get her."

Trapper finished for him. "His problem was that he couldn't corrupt her."

"Everything fell apart for him when she turned down the job at Xanda and quit," said Frazier.

Delgado moved a hand to Trapper's shoulder. "And we all know what happened at Xanda. The reason the CIA's involved is because she's been classified as a spy. They believe she can do this. If she does we're talking treason whether she's coerced or not."

Trapper didn't look at either man when he asked, "What will you do with her when you find her?"

"She'll disappear until Albert manages to call off the dogs...which might take a while." With that said, Delgado looked over at Frazier and nodded toward the door. He wanted to give Trapper time to digest what that might mean for him.

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The doctor dabbed some salve on Mark's shoulder as he spoke to Leah. "You know it'll take a whole lot of these cigar burns to cause a real problem other than the pain that comes with them. How far are you willing to push Manning?"

"I can't do what he wants. It's impossible. But I'm dead if I try, and I'm dead if I don't. If I even try to do what Manning wants, the U. S. will make me disappear in a hole for the rest of my life." She looked at Mark and then the doctor. "You two might make it out alive. But if I don't do what Manning wants, our deaths...all of us..." she said, drawing a circle in the air with her fingers, "...will probably be excruciatingly painful before we die."

"So what are you going to do?" asked Mark.

"Stall as long as I can. Make it look like I'm building something that can get in," she replied.

Mark looked her in the eye. "What do you know?" he asked suspiciously.

Looking up from her list, she gazed out the window sadly. "I don't _know_ anything. I hope. That's all." Standing, she walked toward the cabin door and leaned out, yelling down the hallway. "I need to see Manning."

As the guard walked down the hall, he looked Leah up and down. "You got better real fast."

She scowled. "Just tell Manning I have questions, and I need answers before I can finish the list."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

Both ships had become silent. The passengers walked around the decks quietly while their skin crawled in anticipation of the next _thing_ that would happen or had to happen.

Trapper waited and watched the water ripple by, however impatiently and becoming more and more agitated by the hour. They would soon be on Turkish soil, waiting again for word of where Manning was taking Leah. Then everything they had trained for would begin, and hopefully he'd have Leah back, safe and sound. But would she really be sound? What would Doug have done to her to get what he wanted? Would he break her resolve or kill her before they got here?

On the yacht where Leah was being held, it was much the same. Doug had gone ballistic when he read Leah's list of equipment and software she would need. "A satellite dish I can understand. But storage and RAM in terabytes? High speed modems? A power system separate from the yacht's power system. And why do you need two terminals? This list is overkill. You're stalling."

Leah snorted calmly. "That list is the minimum I'll need. Think about it, Doug. The DOD isn't a fly-by-night organization. They'll see the first incursion into their systems within seconds. What we have to do is try to make it look like a legitimate inquiry which means we have to find computers or terminals that are already authorized. Once that no longer works, we have to make sure they can't trace the queries back here, because I promise you they will respond with deadly force. That means we have to access sites all over the world...everywhere but where we are...to cascade an inquiry into their system with dead ends along the way to keep them off track, and we have to be able to drop paths and redirect as they get close to us. We have to be more than one step ahead of them or they will find us. I'll need Mark on a machine watching our pathways and disabling them as they're found while I establish new ones."

She'd never seen Doug as deeply angry as he seemed now. The difference this time was that his anger wasn't directed at her.

He had not anticipated the complexity she had just explained, but instinctively he knew she wasn't exaggerating. He'd have to be careful procuring all that equipment, and it would likely take time he didn't have. "What else?" he growled.

"I'll need time. I have to find the correct frequency and trajectory for a satellite used by the DOD, and then create telemetry that bypasses the satellite monitors at CIT. Then I have to identify the pathways and test them before we take the first shot at the DOD."

"Exactly where do you expect to find those kinds of connections?" Doug asked as he passed Leah's list to one of his men.

Leah stood and stretched. She was beginning to relax, knowing she had just given Albert and Trapper more time to find her. "One of the main vulnerabilities will be the Fed through any number of less secure or non-proprietary systems. Then there are the _friendly_ governments. Next will be hospitals, universities, banks, and finally up and coming technology companies like Microsoft and IBM who are beginning to build networks all over the world...unsecured networks. You see, we don't really need direct access into their systems. What we want to do is intercept packets of transmitted data and piggyback on them, routing from one packet to another until we find a DOD friendly packet."

Doug smiled at Leah, coveting what he thought of as a machine. He considered her his finest creation. His smile faded however, as he remembered the procurement of the equipment she would need and the time required to install it on the yacht might delay his delivery of the plutonium and schematics for weeks, making his buyer less than satisfied. Perhaps it was time to make contact. If the buyer already possessed such a network, it might mean an earlier than agreed upon delivery...or perhaps a delivery of a different sort.

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The catamaran carrying Albert's extraction team eased up to the dock at the port city of Antalya, Turkey in the gloaming of their fourth day on the Mediterranean. By the second night, they had received word that Doug had docked at the port at Tripoli, Libya.

It was two o'clock in the morning when everyone was awakened and rushed into a single hotel room. "All right, everyone. This is what we've been waiting for," said Delgado. "We're heading for Derna, Libya. The people of Derna are known to object to Gaddafi's policies. We have a reliable contact there, we have transportation to Tripoli, and we have a safe house in Tripoli as a base of operations." Turning to Trapper, Gonzo and Ernie, he said, "Trapper, Gonzo, I'm sorry, but you'll be going with us. We can't safely get into the port at Tripoli, so you'll be in the safe house. You'll take whatever you think you'll need to keep Leah alive that you can carry or pack in a case the size that can be carried by one man. Ernie, you'll stay on the yacht. Once we have Leah, you'll be coming into port with whatever larger equipment we might need once we find her."

Trapper looked back at Ernie. "Will she be in any danger?"

"Maybe," said Delgado. "If the Libyans discover the yacht, all that firearms training will be put to good use." Looking around the room, he had anticipated questions. Of course, none of Albert's team would ask, knowing they'd be told what they needed to know when they needed to know. Trapper, Gonzo and Ernie had questions, but there were so many, none of them knew where to begin.

"All right, everyone, pack your stuff. It's going to take us a day and a half at top speed to get to Derna, so the sooner everyone gets packed, the quicker we can leave. After we dock at Derna, we have another day and a half to travel to Tripoli by truck, so you need to get some rest on the yacht. Once we get to Derna, you won't get any good sleep until the extraction is complete." Taking one last look around the room, Delgado said, "Fall out."

Once everyone was in their places on the catamaran, and their supplies, equipment and weapons were checked and rechecked, Delgado told everyone to get some sleep with the exception of Trapper, Gonzo and Ernie.

"You all had question marks on your faces at our last briefing. Now that you've had some time to think, any burning questions come to the surface?"

"Yes," said Ernie. "Why the change in plans? We were all supposed to be on the boat out of most of harm's way."

Delgado let out a long breath. "The truth, Ernie, is that we're planning for middle ground...not the best, but not the worst. We didn't think Manning had the balls to deal with Gaddafi. Tripoli is the worst place for us to be. It's the hardest to get into, and it'll be the hardest to get out of. " He looked at all three of them one by one. "The captain of our vessel has standing orders to leave on my command. He will do that without question. That means," he said, looking at Ernie, "there is a possibility you won't be coming into port. " He turned to Trapper and Gonzo. "And that means you may never leave. If it goes bad and Gaddafi finds us, he'll kill us."

"And what is the likelihood of that?" asked Trapper, scowling.

"I'd say our chances are 50/50."

Looking at Gonzo apologetically, Trapper said, "Then Gonzo goes with Ernie. I'll pack in what I might need and deal with Leah's physical issues myself."

"What just a minute, Trapper. Both Ernie and I were told the best and worst case scenarios," said Gonzo. "My eyes were wide open when I agreed to this."

Moving a hand to Gonzo's shoulder, Trapper sighed. "Gonzo, think about it. The chances Leah is going to come out of this and survive are slim. And I can't go back without trying to get her out. Without her, there isn't much of a life to go back to. But you both have your whole lives ahead of you. You have your careers. Ernie, you have your sons. I can't let you throw all that away on the outside chance this is going to work. This isn't Korea, Ernie, and it's not Vietnam, Gonzo. It's not a war or a noble cause." Turning away, he looked at Delgado. "It's a selfish thing two old men need to do out of love and promises. Albert supplied the means to get to her, and I'll be the one to patch her up, if I can. This is the way I want it."

"I'll let you know one way or another in a few hours," said Delgado quietly. "In the meantime, you three get to your bunks." Each looked worriedly at the others before they all filed out of the briefing room.

Delgado, however didn't head to his quarters. Rather he called a meeting.

Pop, Aggie, Frazier and Pauley all sat at a single table. At the head was Eliseo Delgado with five beers. As he passed them around the table, he said, "McIntyre wants to leave Gonzo behind with Ernie. Thoughts?"

"The fewer of them there are, the fewer mistakes will be made, the better our chances," said Aggie. She added under her breath, "Which still aren't going to be great. Albert's asking a lot this time."

"What's stuck in your craw?" asked Pop.

Aggie scowled at him. "Do you have any idea what Gaddafi likes to do to women?"

Frazier downed a swallow of beer. "So don't get too close to him. Just pique his interest."

"She's right," said Delgado. "If he sees her and likes her, he's likely to just take her."

"She knew the risks. This part of the operation is why she's here," said Pop. "Suck it up, Aggie. You've seen worse."

While Pauley shifted his eyes to the ceiling, Frazier puffed out his cheeks and looked away as Aggie and Pop glared at each other.

"It's too late to back out," said Delgado. "We all knew the possibilities when we signed up." He studied Aggie. "Nerves?"

She snorted. "I just get sick at the thought of being urinated on. He doesn't even have to be close enough for me to cut it off."

Snickers came from all around.

Rubbing his forehead with his thumb and middle finger, Pop said, "She's right. Trapper's the Chief of Surgery in a major San Francisco hospital. He didn't get there by chance. He can handle the medical aspect of this by himself. There's no reason to risk Gonzo."

"Is McIntyre emotionally stable enough to handle it?" asked Delgado. "After all, he was going to marry this woman."

"I get the feeling he won't have a problem doing what he has to do," said Frazier. "He's seen a lot. Albert says he's unshakable when he's working." When Pauley shook his head, Frazier continued with conviction. "For Christ's sake, the man worked in a M.A.S.H unit. He's seen more bloody bodies...more death...than any one of us." He glanced up at Delgado, continuing calmly. "I say bring him in alone. He's capable of taking care of her...or whatever's left of her. He'll do what he has to do and wait until it's over to fall apart. There's no reason to put Gonzo in any more risk than he'll be in on the boat," he finished, turning up his bottle of beer.

Delgado looked at each person at the table waiting until he got a nod, a raised brow, or a shrug. "Let's get some sleep."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Leah sat on the side of the bed holding the guitar Mark had left for her. For a while she just looked at it before she allowed her hands to glide over the strings, the metallic whine of the wound steel bringing back memories that made her smile. It seemed it had been a long time since she really smiled with pleasure rather than for some small victory. Carefully positioning her fingers over the strings at the top of the neck, she strummed and immediately winced. It wasn't that her fingers were stiff or lacked the strength to depress the strings. Rather, she no longer had calluses, so the strings bit into the tips of her fingers. She knew from experience she'd just have to tough it out until the calluses returned if she wanted to play the way she used to. Unfortunately, she didn't get to try again.

The door to her cabin swung open and Doug Manning marched in. "I have a solution to our equipment problem."

"I didn't know we had an equipment problem. You have deep pockets, Doug. None of that equipment is beyond your reach."

"That's very true, my dear," he said as he approached her and looked down at the guitar. "How are your fingers?"

She looked at the tips of the fingers on one hand. "Sore. It'll take a while to catch up." Looking up, she asked, "So what's this solution you have?"

"We don't have to procure or install equipment on this ship. We will be moving into the city where the equipment will be installed per your specifications. Security won't be a problem short of an air strike, and I'm betting the U. S. won't go there."

Setting the guitar aside, Leah stood and walked to a port hole. She could see the buildings of the city beyond the harbor where they were moored, though she had no idea where that was. "Where is there?"

"Tripoli," said Doug with a satisfied smile.

She spun around. "You're a fool, Doug. You're trying to make a deal with Gaddafi?" Taking a step forward, she pointed toward the city. "You're an idiot if you think the U. S. won't attack that city. They're just looking for a reason, and I'm sure they'll consider giving that madman nukes is a good one."

Doug crossed his arms. "I'm tired of sparring with you. You'll do what you're told or you'll be severely dealt with. The Libyans don't take lip from a woman."

Leah felt chills run through her. She was well aware what Gaddafi could do. He wouldn't kill her if she doubled-crossed him. He would make her wish she was dead.

Doug smiled at her sudden lack of color. "We will be going into the city tomorrow to meet with Gaddafi's representative who will show us what they have and will expect you to tell them what else is needed to deliver the intelligence they need."

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Trapper slept well and rose early, waiting for everyone else on the deck of the ship. Leaving Gonzo behind made sense. Only one of them was required to treat whatever problems Leah may have when they found her, short of surgery which couldn't happen until they were back on the ship. Ernie could use help preparing the surgical room. Trapper knew Delgado would agree, but he'd also ask his team's opinion as to whether he could handle it alone. After all, he was older.

"You're up early." Delgado offered a cup of coffee at the ship rail they now shared.

"I've always kept odd hours. A few hours sleep, and I'm ready to do it all over again." Raising his cup, he said, "Thank you," then took a tentative drink. The coffee was piping hot. "So what's the verdict?"

"Hm? " asked Delgado with raised brows. "I don't know what you mean?"

"What did your team decide? Does Gonzo go, or do I go alone?"

Delgado chuckled. "Trapper, you're an intuitive man. You knew that answer before you fell asleep last night." Frazier tapped his shoulder, nodded and left. "I'm not going to wake Gonzo or Ernie. There's no point, and they could use the extra sleep. Are you packed?"

Trapper raised his hand to his shoulder pointing into the dining room with his thumb.

Delgado looked. There on the table was a backpack and soft-sided military cold pack. Smiling, he gave Trapper a pat on the back. "Let's go then."

"Trapper?"

Both men looked at each other as if they'd been caught, then turned toward the voice behind them.

"Gonzo..." started Delgado.

Gonzo held up his hands. "I'm not here to argue." Walking up to Trapper, he held out his hand first, then moved the other up over Trapper's shoulder and stepped into a hug. "Be careful. We need you both back." He watched from the rail of the catamaran for the boat taking Trapper and Delgado's team across the Mediterranean to Libya to become just a speck on the horizon. When he felt someone at his side, he turned, knowing it would be Ernie. A look of worry passed between them, but not a word was spoken.

Trapper watched as well, but his mind was already in Libya. All he saw was Leah the way she was at their engagement party. He closed his eyes at a new vision that slowly crept in, an emaciated, bedraggled wisp of the woman she was. A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jump.

"Sorry, Trapper," said Delgado. "Nervous?"

"No. Scared would be more like it," Trapper answered without taking his eyes off the slowly disappearing mass of land he had been standing on just minutes before.

Delgado turned and leaned back against the rail, crossing his arms. "You wouldn't be human if you weren't."

Trapper smiled and looked away. "You misunderstand. I'm not afraid of what we're about to walk in to. I'm not afraid of what might happen to me." His smile disappeared. "I'm afraid we'll be too late to save her...even if she's still alive."

Delgado tightened his lips and nodded. "Well, we won't know until we find her, will we? The best we can do until we do find her is have hope that we're not too late." He gave Trapper a pat on the shoulder. "You need to try to get some sleep. I know you think that's not possible, but go to your quarters, lay down and close your eyes. You might be surprised." Moving Trapper toward the door, he added, "By the time you wake up in the morning, we'll be in port at Derna. We'll have breakfast, and then we'll be on our way on land, one step closer to getting her out."

When Trapper awoke the next morning, he could feel the tension on the boat before he even left his quarters. He knew these men and women were already up. They had been up early every morning since this journey began. But the boat was eerily quiet. He could hear an occasional bump, footsteps and off in the distance the sound of truck engines. But he'd not heard a word.

He dressed, replaced the few things he'd taken out of his pack back, and stepped out into the passage way with his back pack hanging on his shoulder by one strap and the medical pack dangling from his hand. Each room he passed was empty save a metal cot, a table attached to a wall, and a chair. They were completely devoid of anything of comfort or of a personal nature. Climbing the ladder, holding the rungs with his free hand, he stopped to look around when his head popped up above the deck. It seemed no one was aboard.

Continuing up to the deck, he looked over the rail. There in front of him were six trucks with canvas covering the cargo area, and under the canvas were...boxes of fabric? Trapper slightly turned his head at the sound of footsteps.

Delgado passed him a cup of coffee. "Enjoy it. It'll be your last one for awhile."

Nodding toward the trucks, Trapper asked, "Fabric?"

"Among other things," answered Delgado. "We have to look like traders, and one of the things these people love most is fabric for clothes. There's also pottery, pots and pans...guns, ammunition, medical equipment, and a special cold chest that runs off a plug in the cigarette lighter up front."

"Am I over-dressed?" asked Trapper with a smile as he looked Delgado up and down. Each member of Albert's army was dressed in robes and keffiyeh, a traditional headscarf.

"No, you are a doctor who volunteers his services in third world countries. You can be any nationality you wish...except American...or British."

Taking a deep breath, Trapper raised his brows and bounced his head. "Well, Canada is fairly neutral where Libya is concerned. How about French Canadian?"

"You'll have to speak French," said Delgado.

"Je peux si nécessaire," said Trapper with a nod. He passed the coffee cup back to Delgado who left it on a table, and both men disembarked. Before Trapper climbed into the back of one of the trucks, Delgado handed him a small package with grease spots.

Trapper sniffed the package. "What's this?"

"Breakfast. It's called Mb'atten...stuffed potatoes," said Delgado. It's not bad."

The ride was dusty and bumpy. Trapper moved the bandana around his neck to cover his nose and mouth. After several hours holding on to keep from being tossed off the back of the truck, he was grateful when the truck stopped. The company shared water, figs, dates and oranges and local bread containing mince meat, herbs and spices. They had only a fifteen minute break before a motorcycle ridden by one of the extraction team joined them on the side of the road.

"We're clear for the next fifty miles," the rider said. "There's a caravan of camels taking merchandise to the market in Libya, but no one else for miles."

Delgado nodded and told the man to stay with them for the next thirty miles and then to ride ahead again. The man was given food and water, the food he ate quickly shoving it in large chunks into his mouth, after which he took some water, spit it out, and then took more and swallowed. He handed the canteen back to Delgado and was ready to go.

Trapper had already resumed his seat in the back of the truck with the medical supplies.

The convoy travelled this way for two more days until they were on the outskirts of Tripoli.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Leah sat on a rug in the corner of a room while the men spoke around a table. She was dressed in a white linen gown, a tunic made of the same material, and a white scarf wrapped around her hair and her neck. She was the only woman in the room, and understood very little of the Arabic the men spoke even though Doug had a translator, who only spoke into Doug's ear. Every now and then, the Libyan man to whom Doug was speaking, would lean to the side and stare at her.

The one thing she did hear that Doug said in English looking directly at the man who seemed to be in charge was "Yes, she's an American. Yes, she's a woman. But who better to embarrass her country at the same time she gives you the ability to bring it to its knees."

The man regarded Doug for a moment, then got to his feet and walked over to Leah, standing in front of her and scowling down at her. "I know who you are," he said in a thick accent. "I believe you stood in front of those who actually did what you have been credited with." Flourishing his hand, he continued, "You are a mere woman, and no woman has the mental capacity to know something so complicated." Turning to Doug, he said, "I will watch your game. Her first failure will be her last...as well as yours." Nodding toward his men, he strode out of the room, leaving Doug, Mark, Doug's two men and Leah alone.

There was precious little for Leah to say. Everything was out of her hands, and if she had said something, she knew she would have been severely reprimanded with a beating. Libyan men in any kind of power had little regard for women except where their baser desires were concerned. They could have many wives who gave them many children, and who found companionship and comfort with their sister wives.

Leah was a woman alone, despised by the Libyan men, and nothing more than a dollar sign to Doug. He really didn't care what happened to her after she delivered the schematics Gaddafi wanted. Gaddafi would likely keep her as one of his wives to breed her intelligence into his sons. For her, that would be a sentence worse than death, unless he was smart enough to figure out she couldn't have children.

Doug and his men lived in a small compound attached to the outer wall of Gaddafi's larger compound. A covered hallway led to the room that would be fitted with the equipment Leah would need to break into the United States Department of Defense computers to retrieve the nuclear schematics. She had a room of her own with a sleeping pad, blankets and a desk where she wrote lists of equipment and instructions for their connection. At the end of each day the lists would be taken from her until the day came when she was taken to the equipment room where piles upon piles of machines, wire bundles, keyboards, antennas, modems, routers, and switches waited for her to put together into something sophisticated enough to communicate with a satellite and find packets of data zooming all over the world.

Raising her hand to her head, she groaned. "I thought you said these people could build it."

Stepping into the room from behind her, Doug said, "There will be people who will take direction from Mark. Mark will take direction from you. They can build the basic computer, but they have no idea how to make the connections."

"You didn't happen to see a satellite dish anywhere did you?"

Doug shook his head. "But that doesn't mean there isn't one. I think Gaddafi is testing you."

She smirked. "Am I going to get to meet the man...speak to him. Because I need to tell him most of this stuff is garbage."

A door opened on the other side of the room. Standing before her was Muammar Gaddafi. She recognized him instantly from news reports back home. He wore a slight smile as he approached her. "You risk being blinded," he said with an accent so thick it was difficult to understand him.

"Why is that, Mr. Gaddafi?"

"Libyan women know to lower their eyes when a man is present." He breathed in as if it was beneath him to tell her his people's customs. "However, I understand you are American and have...other customs. I will tolerate them in order to facilitate our project."

She'd opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. This man could end her with a simple nod. Lowering her eyes, she bowed her head. "Thank you."

"You will come with me. I have something to show you." Gaddafi turned and, expecting her to follow, left the room.

Turning to Doug, she motioned first to herself, and then to the door, questioning, and when Doug nodded, she followed Gaddafi out. Doug followed as well, and when they were out in the courtyard, Gaddafi addressed him. "My Minister of Information will be speaking with Miss Haverty. Do you have anything to contribute?"

Doug was speechless for a moment. He simply shook his head and excused himself back to his quarters.

xxxxxxxx

Trapper and Eliseo Delgado sat in a tent with brightly colored cloth hanging from each corner, a cook fire burning out front, and several men sitting outside cross-legged, watching as people shuffled down the busy street.

"Our contacts here have several rooms in an apartment building for you to set up your practice. You'll have to tend to some of the illnesses here in the city to be believable," said Delgado. "We also have another medical volunteer who will vouch for you. He'll tell them you are from the same organization he's working for, so your cover is almost in place. You'll go there tomorrow with his aid who speaks Arabic and can translate for you."

"And how does this find Leah?" asked Trapper.

"The aid will spread the word that you are a cardiothoracic surgeon. If Leah has trouble, we're hoping you'll be sought out. If not, Gaddafi's own curiosity may win you an audience. Once you're in, we're hoping you'll see her...to judge her health. And we're hoping you'll get a feel for the compound she's being held in."

Running a hand over his head, Trapper said, "It seems you're hoping for quite a bit. Don't you have some kind of plan to go in and get her?"

"No, Trapper," Eliseo said definitively. "That would be suicide." Moving a hand to Trapper's knee, Delgado looked at Trapper until the doctor met his eyes. "Gaddafi will want to show her off...the American woman who's helping to build Libya's first nuclear weapon...a weapon that will be used against their biggest enemy."

"If he does that, the US will see her. They'll know she's here."

"They already know she's here. We have to get to her before they do."

Trapper thought for a moment. "If I see her, why can't I take her out of there?"

"Because you won't make it out with her. They'll definitely kill you, and they'll probably kill her, but after she delivers. If she won't do what they ask, they will torture her. Or maybe they'll keep you alive and torture you in order to get what they want out of her."

"That's inhuman," said Trapper, scowling.

"That's Muammar Gaddafi. If you see her, you can't let them think you already know her."

"And where will you be?"

"Well, you can't wear a wire, and we can't bug you. They'll find that before you get through the first door. Aggie is going as your nurse. You'll have some compounds in your medical bag...nothing suspicious, that Aggie can work miracles with to make explosives. If you get into trouble, she'll get you out. Mind you, I'm just talking about you. Not Leah." He held his hand up to stop the comment Trapper was about to make. "If you do your job, Trapper, the likelihood they will harm her before her work is done is minimal. He could try to kill you just because you looked at him the wrong way. We're not going to automatically jump to the conclusion that he's connected you to Leah. Though he will test you. You can be sure of that."

xxxxxxxx

Leah followed a respectful distance behind Gaddafi as they walked the halls of his compound. The halls were of the same color as the sand. _Third-world drab,_ Leah thought to herself. Then he led her through a series of rooms lavishly decorated with brightly colored fabrics draped on the walls and from the ceilings. There were no chairs, but large pillows, and a low table at the center of the back wall behind which another man sat and wrote. On the table were statues of bronze and what looked like silver and gold along with any number of inlaid precious gems.

The last room she entered was nothing like the others. Equipment lined the walls, metal cabinets were opened with cables hanging out and a bank of screens sat forward of the equipment. It reminded her of the work room at Redstone Arsenal where she'd spent a considerable time of her government employment.

"Mr. Manning has given me your list of required equipment. But he has given us no plan for how you will use the equipment," said Gaddafi.

Leah glanced up at the man, thought better of it, then looked away. "I haven't written anything but the list. I thought Mr. Hansen and I would be working alone. I don't need instructions for myself, and I verbally tell him what to do when something needs to be done."

Gaddafi laughed.

"Did I say something funny?" she asked, looking into one of the metal cabinets.

"You are in a very different country from your own, Miss Haverty. I would suggest you refrain from _telling_ any man what to do."

"Then how am I going to get any men to build what you need to get a nuclear device?" she asked, smirking to his face. When Gaddafi met her eyes, she didn't waver, but glared directly into his. "I am a scientist, Mr. Gaddafi. I don't care about such proprieties when I have a job to do. It wastes time. It prevents things from being done as efficiently as possible. Perhaps your men shouldn't think of me as a woman...merely a scientist."

Gaddafi's smile was condescending...evil, as if he loathed her, but she was his only avenue, at the moment, to obtain that which he desired. He whispered to an aid who had been constantly following them, while both men looked Leah up and down.

When the aid clapped his hands two men, obviously military, came in and grabbed her arms roughly, almost lifting her off her feet, and hauled her back through the door.

 _Oh, shit_ was the only coherent thought she could muster.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

Trapper was up before first light before any of the extraction team, readying his medical supplies for transport to his group of apartments.

Delgado stuck his head around the curtain that separated his and Trappers quarters. "Already up?"

Chuckling, Trapper said, "I've been waiting for too long to do...something...anything."

"Well, you may have to wait a little longer. We have a problem."

Trapper dropped the bandages he was holding into an open pack and turned to face Delgado. "What problem?" he asked assertively.

"Doug Manning. He's in the compound. He'll recognize you if you get called in."

Closing his eyes, Trapper dropped hard on his cot. "Now what?"

"Aggie will go in with Dr. Reynard, the doctor who was going to vouch for you. Once they've gone through all the searches, Aggie will fit him with a headpiece and a microphone that he'll use to talk to you. Of course, this will only work if they're sent for. Somehow we have to get a message to Leah to fake a heart problem."

Letting out a long breath, Trapper became despondent. "I was hoping to see for her for myself."

"You will, John," said Delgado, touching Trapper's arm. "We'll get her out."

Trapper moved a hand over his mouth, then looked at Delgado and eventually nodded. "Can I, at least, work at Dr. Reynard's clinic. I need something to do, and he might need some help."

Standing Delgado headed for the tent flap. "I'll ask him. I don't see why he wouldn't. He already knew your reputation and was happy you were here."

xxxxxxxx

Leah sat naked in the middle of a room decorated with pillows, sheets and small tables with baubles… except for one table on which sat hair clippers, scissors, and several jars of some kind of cream. The men who dragged her in had literally ripped off her robe and tunic, leaving her alone in the room without a second look. No, she thought. There was a look...one of disgust. She jumped when a door opened, and then slammed shut.

In a flurry of white material, a woman appeared sans her hijab. "I have been ordered...to display you as the kafir you are."

Leah sat up straight and moved her eyes to the left, and then to the right. "I'm...sorry? It wasn't my idea to be here."

The woman stopped and regarded Leah. "What do you mean?"

"I was taken from my home in America and brought here against my will."

"By your husband?"

"Why does that matter?"

"It is your duty to do as your husband wishes."

"I'm not married. Well, I was about to be married, but I was taken before that happened...by a..." Leah shook her head as she snarled, "an evil man." Looking back at the woman, Leah asked, "What have you been told to do to me?"

"I am to shave your head...to remove any indication that you are a woman."

Leah's eyes shot open wide. "Remove!"

The woman looked as if she was beginning to feel sorry for Leah. "Hide. What have you done to make the Colonel so angry?"

Thinking back to her conversation with Gaddafi, she winced. "I suppose I asked for this."

"Obviously."

"No, literally. You see, I build computer systems that normally men would build. I asked him how I was going to get men to build what is needed if they don't like taking orders from a woman. I said that perhaps they should think of me as a scientist rather than a woman."

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yes, I see. Is that what you really wanted?"

"No. I wanted at little respect considering I'm being forced to build...what he expects me to build."

Picking up her robe and tossing it to Leah, the woman said, "Cover yourself. It is forbidden for anyone to look upon your private areas except your husband."

Pulling the robe over her head, Leah asked, "Does that include other women?"

"Yes. It is said that women are weak where beauty is concerned."

"Oh. Not much respect for women here, is there? So what do we do now?"

"You will sit while I shave your head. Then I will bind your breasts so that you appear...flat...like a man. I will also remove your cosmetics."

"If you'll just give me some soap and water, I'll save you the trouble. Can't you just put my hair up on my head and cover it?"

"If I do not shave your head, one of the men will do it. Probably with their knives. You may be scarred for life."

Taking a deep breath, Leah raised her arms and let them fall to her sides. "I suppose it...will...grow back. One day." Leah sat on the pillow she had been left on while the woman knelt behind her and began to shave her head.

"You have scars. Where you in a battle?"

Snorting, Leah said, "I suppose you could call it that."

"Then you know how to fight?"

Leah's brows furrowed. "I guess it depends on the kind of fight. I have fought for my life. I'm still fighting for my life because every minute I'm here the closer I am to death."

"You are not speaking of fighting with weapons."

"No. I'm speaking of my health. I have...someone else's heart…inside me."

"You mean the heart of this man who was to be your husband."

"No. I mean the heart of my husband who died. His heart was transplanted into my chest."

The buzz of the shaver stopped. Leah felt her head, finding herself half bald. The other half of her head was still covered with hair. She looked up when the woman walked in front of her.

"You have a heart in your chest you were not born with?"

Closing her eyes, Leah realized this woman had been denied the knowledge of the world outside Libya, maybe even outside this compound. "May I ask your name?"

"My name is Marwa."

"Marwa...yes. I have a man's heart in my chest. And my husband-to-be...is my doctor. Only I fear I will never see him again. I don't think the Colonel will let me leave here alive."

"Buy why wouldn't he let you leave if you give him what he wants?"

"Marwa, do you live inside the compound?"

"Yes. I have always lived here. The Colonel is my father."

Leah's mouth formed an 'O' as her eyebrows rose. "Well, then you must come here and finish what you've started...as your father wishes."

Marwa cast her eyes down. This woman seemed to be no threat. She knew of the outside world and made Marwa feel that knowledge of that world would be far from harmful as her mothers had taught her and her father had often raved against.

Just as Marwa was finished wrapping Leah's breasts and dressing her in sirwal, robe and a hijab covering her head, Gaddafi entered the room. He said nothing, but rather walked all the way around Leah, stopping directly in front of her.

Though she was frightened, Leah was determined not to cower.

It seemed neither would relent until Gaddafi growled lowly. "Despite my best efforts..." he grabbed the taqiyah off her head, "...even without cosmetics and even appearing as a slight man, you are still beautiful."

Leah sucked in a breath and turned away. The last thing she wanted or needed was for Gaddafi to think of her as desirable. Hopefully, that's not what he meant. She was sure once she opened her mouth, he wouldn't think so.

"This..." he said, motioning at her attire, "does not disturb you?"

She snorted. "If this is what it takes to get an honest day's work out of your men, I'm all for it." To make sure he understood, she continued, "No, this does not disturb me." And when he turned to leave, she added a little louder, "Nor does it diminish me."

When he stopped, Marwa held her breath. She liked this kafir, and if this was what all kafir were like, she wanted to know more.

Gaddafi refrained from saying anything until he walked through the door where he said loudly, "Come with me. Both of you."

He stopped outside the door of the room where Leah had seen all the equipment. "You may have an assistant. Because you are a female, your assistant must be a female." Turning to his daughter, he said with absolutely no affection, "You, Marwa, will be her assistant. Go prepare yourself."

Marwa nodded.

"Do you require Mr. Manning to complete your work?" asked Gaddafi, addressing Leah.

Her first thought was that he would eliminate Doug rather than pay him for her services. She wasn't prepared to let that happen. She might need him to get her out once her work was done. "Mr. Manning has contacts in the US government that might prove...helpful. But I don't need him to set up the equipment. I will need him when it's up and running."

"Very well. He will stay in his apartment outside the compound until the time arrives when you will need him. You and Mr. Hansen will remain in the compound. " He snapped his fingers, and Marwa stepped forward. "This kafir will share your rooms Keep your knife at your side. She cannot be trusted."

Bowing, Marwa said, "Yes, father." She turned to Leah. "This way."

Gaddafi had turned to leave. "Wait," said Leah. "When can I start work?"

Halting, Gaddafi smiled to himself. Her directness was refreshing. "You may start when Marwa has prepared."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

"Dr. Reynard, this is Dr. John McIntyre," said Delgado with a wide smile.

When the two doctors shook hands, Dr. Reynard held Trapper's hands in his and studied them. "Forgive me, Dr. McIntyre. I've studied the work of these hands. It is an honor," Gaston Reynard said in a thick French accent.

"Thank you, Dr. Reynard."

"Trapper," said Delgado, "Dr. Reynard has been briefed, so he can fill you in on the kind of help he'll need, and you can tell him all about Leah's condition. You'll stay here in one of the apartments. Dr. Reynard has agreed to put you on schedule here, and he's been able to secure your documentation."

"Documentation?" said Trapper.

"Yes, Dr. McIntyre," said Reynard. "All of us," he said, indicating his staff, "must have papers from our service organization to work here in Libya. I have papers for you and Agatha. Agatha will remain Agatha. Her profession dictates her identity be private. However, you, John, you are a well-known surgeon, therefore you'll have a new name. You will be..." Reynard looked down at the file, "...Robert Boudreau."

"Agatha?" said Trapper with a furrowed brow.

Delgado laughed. "Aggie."

Trapper grinned and nodded. Rubbing his hands together, he asked, "When do we get started?"

"As soon as the National Army gets through with you. They'll be here within the hour."

Delgado moved his eyes to Reynard's. "How do you know that?"

Looking out the door, the doctor answered, "They knew a new doctor was here ten minutes after he arrived. They can spot a doctor a mile away." He looked back at Delgado. "You need to leave. Now." Once Delgado was through the back door, Reynard turned to Trapper and Aggie. "I need to brief you both on our organization. We only have a few minutes. Do you speak French?"

Trapper nodded, but Aggie said no.

"Then Agatha, you are an American ex-patriot. You have been assisting Dr. _Boudreau_ for the last five years."

The doctor had five minutes to tell Trapper and Aggie about the humanitarian organization they would be associated with before the Libyan Guard barged through the door with their side arms drawn. Reynard had already sent their information back to his organization so that when Gaddafi's guards inquired, they would get immediate answers.

Looking through the paperwork the guard in charge occasionally glanced at Trapper. He paid little attention to Aggie who had assumed a submissive demeanor, standing behind Trapper who played along and moved her behind him when one of the guards came near.

Trapper was caught by surprise when the guard who had reviewed the paperwork asked him a question in French. "Vous êtes Français canadien. De quelle province?"

"Québec. Je suis né à Laval. J'ai pratiqué la médecine à Montréal," replied Trapper.

"Et quelle est votre spécialité?" the guard asked.

"Cardiothoracics."

Holding the file up next to Trapper's face so he could compare the picture, the guard moved his eyes back and forth several times before he nodded. "You know the heart?"

"Inside and out. I'm a surgeon."

Regarding Trapper, the guard breathed heavily through his nose. He closed the file and smacked it into Trapper's chest where Trapper caught it at the same time he glared at the guard.

"Are you angry with me, Doctor? That is not a good thing if you want to peddle your medicine in this city."

"I have no fight with you. I simply want to heal people who otherwise might suffer...die...because they're left helpless by your inadequate health care."

Stepping into Trapper's chest, the guard said quietly, "If it were my decision, Dr. Boudreau, you would not be allowed to stay. Colonel Gaddafi, however recognizes your value to the Libyan people." He stepped back and looked malevolently at Dr. Reynard. "If this man causes any trouble, you will be held personally responsible."

Reynard looked tiredly up at the ceiling and back. "Considering I am the physician of the wives of Colonel Gaddafi, I really don't think my fate is in your hands."

Trappers eyebrow shot up at Reynard's open defiance of the Libyan Guard. He waited until this guard huffed his way out of the apartment before he looked at Reynard. "I thought that kind of disrespect might get you killed."

"It might if I was not favored by the Colonel," replied Reynard. "As long as that holds true, I am safe. Which as I understand, won't be for very much longer if I am to help you rescue your princess."

"Princess? How much did Delgado tell you?"

"Dr...Boudreau, you think others do not hear what is happening in your hospital? San Francisco Memorial is the one hospital that offers training in microvascular surgery. The grants received by the hospital and the reason they were received are well known." Trapper glared at Dr. Reynard, but the doctor continued, "And Mr. Delgado told me you were supposed to have married this woman."

"Hmf," grunted Trapper. "You don't suppose Gaddafi will recognize me himself, do you, if I'm so well known?"

"Calm down, Doctor. I speak only of the medical community. I'm sure the Colonel has never heard of you," said Reynard reassuringly. "Now, why don't you tell me about your lady's condition."

Trapper calmed down and nodded. "Leah is a heart transplant patient...the recipient of her first husband's heart."

Dr. Reynard leaned back against a table and prepared to listen.

"Her family...her, her husband and her two children were in a roll-over traffic accident...into a river. The children drowned while still in the car. Leah and her husband were thrown out before the car entered the river and were taken to the same hospital. Her husband was pronounced brain-dead on arrival. Leah went into surgery...lots of broken bones. While they were in surgery, her heart stopped, and though they were able to revive her, they discovered the heart muscle was severely damaged. Her husband's heart was strong, so it was transplanted into her."

"And how long has it been since she received this heart?"

"Five years, but that's not all. Almost a year ago, she had open heart surgery again to repair an atrial aneurism. I believe it was brought on by the stress of her job and because she hadn't dealt with the loss of her family."

"So you're worried that the stress of being held by Gaddafi might cause a relapse?" asked Dr. Reynard.

"It's not just Gaddafi," said Trapper. "The man who brought her here used a very dangerous cocktail of drugs to fake her death...to make us all think she was dead so we wouldn't look for her. We've been told that up until Leah, no one has survived this cocktail, so we have no idea what shape her heart is in now."

Creases formed in Dr. Reynard's forehead. "Dr. Boudreau," he began softly, "how do you think, with all this that has happened to her, that she will fair at the hands of a madman like Gaddafi? I think, not well."

Trapper's jaw tightened. "If I thought there was no chance of her surviving, I wouldn't have given up everything to come after her."

Recognizing the thin line he had just stepped on with Trapper, Dr. Reynard smiled. "No, of course you wouldn't. We will hope for the best. Now," said Dr. Reynard, standing and walking back to the front door of the apartments, "let's open for the day. Perhaps the troubles of the Libyan people will take your mind off all of this for a while."

"Dr. Reynard, you need to know something. Leah is a determined woman. If she's made up her mind to survive..." Trapper was about to say nothing would stop her, but he knew that wasn't quite true. The deck was stacked against her. "If there is a way for her to survive, she'll find it, even it means going out of her way looking for me."

"And what if she believes you think she is dead?"

"She'll know I'm looking for her."

"How?"

Turning toward the door as several people came through, Trapper turned back and said quietly, "She'll just know."

xxxxxxxx

"Marwa, do you know anything at all about this equipment?" asked Leah.

Marwa had been wandering around the room, looking in, around and behind everything in the room. "Nothing. I do not know why my father asked me to be your assistant. He has more educated daughters than I."

Spinning around to look at Marwa, Leah gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean by more educated?"

"They have gone to university. Some have learned computers."

"But not you?" asked Leah.

"No. I will be sold...or given as a gift...to advance my father's popularity. Those of us who are not sent to university are...not plain."

Leah stuck her tongue in her cheek and nodded slowly. "I apologize for saying this, Marwa. I know it's not what you're taught, but that's an archaic practice. One that is repulsive to me."

"My father is not trying to win a humanitarian award. He seeks power by any means."

"You said that like you disapprove," said Leah as she pulled open a cabinet and began following and untangling cables.

Marwa opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. "I cannot say. The walls have ears."

"Well," said Leah, moving her eyes up to the ceiling. "Another black mark for me. I wonder if there's a magic limit."

Smiling nervously, Marwa asked, "What may I do?"

"You see these cables coming out of the back of these cabinets? We need to untangle them and roll them, like this." Leah pulled a cable, and once it was separate from the rest, she neatly rolled it and laid it on the floor behind the cabinet. "Once we get all these separated, we'll figure out what each is for, and then we'll get them attached either to a junction connected to a converter for the satellite, to a terminal," she said, touching a monitor, and then pointing to tape drives, she added, "or to storage."

As Leah showed Marwa what to do, she said, "I thought there would be men here to help...men who are supposed to know their way around this equipment."

"They will be here. Your Mr. Manning is choosing who among my father's men will assist you. Mr. Manning has told the Colonel they must be the best of the best to keep up with you, and even then, they might not be able to."

"And what did your father say to that?"

"He laughed at first...until Mr. Manning showed him your list and your plan."

"Marwa, I want you to know something. I want you to remember it...in case. Mr. Manning is the man who brought me here against my will. He risked my life giving me drugs to make the man I was going to marry...and a lot of other people...think I was dead. He threatened my life daily while I was recovering. I have no loyalties to that man, and if I was a vengeful person, I would say I don't care if Gaddafi kills him. I would rather see him rot in prison." She stopped pulling cable and cocked her head. "On second thought, maybe I am a vengeful person."

By the fourth evening, Leah was sitting in front of a live terminal taking inventory of scientifically purposed satellites available to her, Bhaskara-2 out of India, Bulgaria 1300 from Bulgaria, EXOSAT, a joint effort by several countries in Europe, Tenma from Japan, and IRAS from the United States.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

"How did this happen?"

The translator hesitated before he turned to Trapper's patient and asked the patient the same question in Arabic.

Becoming irate, the patient spewed a string of Arabic in such a way that Trapper knew the man was angry.

"Why's he angry?" asked Trapper.

The translator glared at him. "You have not been here long. Everyone knows without being told that this man was beaten by the Guard. If you simply breath while the Colonel is within one hundred feet, you can be beaten for breathing his air."

The patient and the translator watched as Trapper wrote something on a chart before he stepped up beside the exam table where the injured...rested. Truthfully, he wasn't resting. He was still very agitated, and said something under his breath.

Trapper caught the word 'kafir'. "Look, if you don't want my help, get off my table. There are plenty of other people waiting."

Taking a step back with a surprised look, the translator looked at the man on the table, repeating what Trapper had said in the man's tongue.

The patient looked at Trapper who's jaw was set and his brow furrowed. Looking Trapper up and down, the man quietly settled down on the table, and waved his hands over his body.

"What hurts the most?" Trapper waited for the translation when the man raised the tunic of his robe to reveal a badly bruised torso. He also pointed to the back of his head, and when the man raised up, Trapper saw that blood had stained the pillow.

"Okay, let's take a look at the head wound first," Trapper said, grasping the man's arm and helping him into a sitting position. "Can we take the tunic off?" The translator simply nodded to the patient as Trapper began raising the tunic over the man's head. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, Trapper began to search through the man's thick hair, and taking a deep, telling breath, he called for Aggie to bring a surgical kit. She bowed when she placed the tray on the table next to the bed. Erring on the safe side, he said, "Agatha, thread this needle with this line, please." He wasn't sure if she knew what the different sizes of needle and thread were. "You have a bad cut on the back of your head that will have to be sewn up." As Trapper spoke, the translator did his job. "I'm going to clean the blood away so I can see it better. Then I'll stitch it after I apply a local anesthetic." Once we do that, I'll take a look at those bruises," he said, pointing to the man's torso. Just as he tied off the last stitch, he heard Dr. Reynard yelling, "Trapper, I need you, stat!"

"Keep him here," Trapper said to the translator as he ran out of the room.

Dr. Reynard was in the middle of the waiting room performing CPR on a man who had just been brought in. "Trapper, he has a gunshot wound to the chest and right, upper thigh. It appears an artery was hit in the thigh, but the chest wound is bleeding heavily as well."

"Let's get him back first," said Trapper, leaving the room and returning with a defibrillator. "Agatha, get a resuscitator in here," he yelled as he started attaching patches to the victim. He watched the defibrillator until it reached its full charge, said "clear", and watched as Dr. Reynard and Agatha pulled away. Placing the paddles in position on the man's chest, Trapper hit the button, and the man's body jumped from the charge racing through him.

Dr. Reynard listened with his stethoscope, and after a minute of complete silence in the clinic as everyone held their breath, Dr. Reynard nodded. "I'll take care of the leg," he said, looking up at Trapper. "You look at his chest."

Talking to one of his assistants, Dr. Reynard said, "Type him and start him on blood and a saline drip."

"Gaston, we have to get him into surgery," said Trapper. "The wound here is packed, but I'll have to get the bullet out. What about his leg?"

"The bullet when straight through, but it nicked the femoral artery. It has to be repaired." He looked over at Trapper. "I'm not a surgeon."

"Do you have a surgeon besides me?"

"No. He left. That's why we were so happy to get you," replied Dr. Reynard.

After securing a bandage over the gunshot wound in the chest, Trapper moved down to the leg. "You're right. The femoral artery is damaged. This will have to be repaired first. If he's strong enough after that, I'll get the bullet out of him."

He turned to Agatha and Reynard's assistant. "Prepare a room as sterile as you can make it. We need scrubs for myself and Dr. Reynard…"

"But Trapper…"

Trapper's intense look stopped Dr. Reynard before he finished. "Gaston, you are the most qualified person here to help me. Don't worry. I'll tell you what to do." Turning back to Agatha, he continued. "I'll need a full surgical tray and spot lights."

Reynard was fully aware of who was standing in the doorway watching everything that happened. Trapper hadn't noticed until he moved to the end of the table to help move the injured man to a gurney.

"Dr. Boudreau, I presume."

Without looking, Trapper said, "I'm a little busy at the moment." He stopped cold when a hand smacked down on his shoulder and turned him.

"You will not address the Colonel in such a manner." When the soldier drew his hand back to strike Trapper, Gaddafi reached out, halting the man's swing.

Trapper held his breath for a moment when he realized he was face to face with Muammar Gaddafi. "Colonel, I don't mean to be rude, but I do need to prepare for surgery. The patient isn't going to last long."

"Your patient doesn't matter, Dr. Boudreau," said Gaddafi. "He was a test subject. I wanted to see how you would react to…an emergency."

Trapper's jaw dropped, but he quickly recovered and glared at Gaddafi. "Do you mean to tell me you had this man shot just to test me?"

Gaddafi raised his chin, but remained calm. "Dr. Boudreau, do not test _me_. With just a nod, my Lieutenant will shoot _you,_ but this time there will be no chance of recovery.

"Colonel, I have dedicated my life to saving the lives of others. If I don't get this man into surgery now, he _will_ die."

Gaddafi nodded, and Trapper closed his eyes, jumping at the sound of a gunshot. His eyes flew open when he realized he had not been shot, and turning to his patient, he moved his hand to either side of the table and bowed his head, taking a deep breath. His patient was dead with a gunshot to the head. Trapper looked up at Gaston, who slowly shook his head, but even though Trapper knew he was walking a fine line, he said through clenched teeth before he spun around, "Does life mean so little to you?" Now with a gun to _his_ head, Trapper held his breath once again, cutting his eyes over to the man holding the gun, and then to Gaddafi.

"There is no fear in your eyes, Dr. Boudreau. Do you not fear me?"

"What good will fear do me?"

"It may well keep you alive." When Trapper's expression didn't change, Gaddafi relaxed and moving his hand to the gun, he lowered it. "I am not here to kill you, Dr. Boudreau, but to retain your services. You see, I've read your file. Your talents would greatly help with a…current project."

"And what would that be?"

"I have a woman in my compound who I have been told may have a weak heart. My own doctors will not touch this woman. She is kafir."

"Kafir?" said Trapper.

"She is not a Libyan woman," said Gaddafi. "She does not lower her eyes and remain silent while in the presence of men. She is not Muslim. She is in my compound because she is…talented…in what she does, and I need those talents. She will do me no good if her heart fails her."

Trapper's heart skipped a beat, leaving him hoping he had not outwardly shown it. "Is she in immediate danger?"

"She appears to be healthy. However, her assistant has said she has moments when it seems she can't breathe. She must stop frequently to rest."

Trapper frowned, but kept the edge out of his voice. "That is certainly a symptom of heart problems. Do you have any idea what her history is?"

"I have been told…" Gaddafi looked disgustedly straight ahead of him before could get the words out. "She has a man's heart in her chest."

Chills ran down Trapper's spine. If he wasn't sure before, he certainly was now that they were talking about Leah. "Are you saying she's a heart transplant patient?" When Gaddafi nodded, Trapper stepped forward. "What do you have her doing that's stressing her so badly?"

Stone-faced, Gaddafi said, "Dr. Boudreau, she is doing what she has done before. My understanding is this is nothing new to her."

"Is she getting her medication?" asked Trapper, meeting Gaddafi's eyes.

"Medication," the Colonel said.

"All heart transplant patients…all organ transplant patients no matter what the organ is must take medicine that prevents their bodies from rejecting the organ. If she's not getting that medication, she could very well be starting to reject the heart. If that happens, the heart will fail sooner than later."

Gaddafi stood expressionless. It was impossible for Trapper to know exactly what thoughts were going through his mind, but he guessed it had to do with her dying before he got is nuke.

"Does she have a doctor?"

"She had a doctor. This doctor is not at my compound."

"The first thing you should do is find out if she has her heart medication. If she doesn't, I need to see her, and I need to get her started on it immediately. Even if she does, she probably doesn't have much. She'll need it on a regular basis."

"Do you have what she needs?" Gaddafi asked with narrowed eyes.

"Probably. The most common drug for heart transplant patients is cyclosporine," said Trapper.

"And why would you have this specific medication with you here, Dr. Boudreau?"

"If I may," said Dr. Reynard, stepping closer. "The reason we recruited Dr. Boudreau is because of the number of heart issues among the Libyan people. You have doctors here who are familiar with ailments of the heart, but they are not surgeons, and in many cases, they can do nothing but make their patients comfortable. Dr. Boudreau can save their lives."

Gaddafi looked down on Dr. Reynard, his expression disinterested. "If there are those among the people who are that feeble, they are a burden upon us all. There is nothing undesirable in death."

Trapper took a deep breath, moved his hands to his hips and let the breath out loudly as he glared at both men. "I have cyclosporine with me because of the abundance of skin, eye and autoimmune conditions it's also used to treat." He pointed at Gaddafi. "You had better hope she uses cyclosporine because it's the only anti-rejection drug I have with me, and it will take weeks, possibly months to get something else."

Trapper's loudness and aggressiveness prompted the guards to step between him and Gaddafi, raising their rifles to his chest and pushing him back.

"Why so emotional, Doctor?" asked the Lieutenant, smiling menacingly.

"I was sent here to heal people. I have a problem, first, with being told their lives are worthless, and second, having to defend what I use to treat them. _All_ life is precious, regardless of whether they have any value to you, Colonel Gaddafi."

Gaddafi raised his chin again. "You walk a fine line, Dr. Boudreau. Be careful you do not step over it. Your life is not so precious to me."

Trapper shrugged. "Then perhaps you should find her another doctor. I can do more good here than taking care of one woman with a heart condition." He stopped next to the dead man on the gurney. "That is if you'll stop killing them for sport."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

Leah sat in the computer room with her hands curled into loose fists and her head laying on her knuckles. She was tired, more tired that she could remember being since her recovery after the car accident that killed her family.

Marwa had watched her energy slowly decline and had spoken to her father, but he had done nothing.

Bending down to see the side of Leah's face, Marwa said, "What is happening to you?"

"I'm dying," Leah whispered. "I can never seem to catch my breath. It has to be my heart."

Marwa left her there. Leah was too tired to go anywhere anyway. If Marwa could get the Colonel to the computer room to see for himself, perhaps he would bring a doctor. She knew if he wouldn't, he risked his plan failing with her death.

Walking into the room where he sat at his desk, Marwa stood well away from him with her head bowed until he beckoned her to come forward.

"Say what you have to say."

"It is the kafir. She thinks she is dying. I believe her. She has requested a doctor."

Closing his eyes, Gaddafi breathed out slowly. She could be stalling. Still, if what Marwa said was true, he could lose his chance of developing a nuclear device. Standing, he walked past Marwa to the computer room with his daughter following at a respectful distance.

Leah was still sitting where Marwa left her, though now, her head rested on the top of the desk.

"You are not well?" asked Gaddafi.

She didn't move at first. Without answering, she slowly raised her head, and when she looked at him, he knew instantly she wasn't stalling, that indeed, something was wrong. She was pale, her eyes seemed sunken and red, and they were surrounded by dark circles.

"There was a doctor on Manning's ship. He was taking care of me. I haven't seen him since I got here. I'm not even sure he's still alive, but he knows what was done to me, and he knows my history."

"Do you have the drugs you require for your heart?"

"Yes. I don't think that's it." She closed her eyes. "Or maybe it is. My medication needs to be adjusted from time to time, but I've been taking the same dosages for a long time now."

"What was this doctor's name?"

"Badhia," whispered Leah, her head dropping back down on the desk.

"Marwa, help Miss Haverty back to your quarters to rest," said Gaddafi. He turned and snapped his fingers at several guards on his way out of the compound to the small apartment where Doug Manning was staying.

One of the guards opened the door and after sweeping the apartment, nodded for Gaddafi to enter.

Doug sat in a chair at the small table with the lists Leah originally gave him, but stopped and leaned back into the wall when the guard barged in. When he saw Gaddafi step in, Manning smiled and stood, thinking the Colonel realized his value.

"Dr. Badhia. Where is he?" barked Gaddafi.

Taking a step forward, Doug asked, "Is Leah all right?" A guard shoved him back down into the chair.

Gaddafi nodded to one of his men who quickly stepped behind Doug, pulling his sidearm from its holster and holding the end of the barrel to Doug's head. "Let us hope you have the correct answer," Gaddafi said calmly. When Doug began to sweat, Gaddafi nodded. "You do not have the correct answer."

"He was a loose end that had to be taken care of…a spy. Probably CIA," said Doug rather boldly.

"You disappoint me, Mr. Manning. How could you eliminate her doctor knowing her condition? You have put her life at risk, and by doing so, you have put my project at risk. I do not think I have to tell you what else is at risk." Taking a deep breath and slowly looking away, Gaddafi added, "I am left to wonder what benefit you have to offer."

Doug stuttered. "I…brought her to you. I'll know if she's faking her work."

"You had agreed to bring me the schematics, not the person who would get the schematics. Now I have to wait for equipment to be made to work before the work of obtaining the schematics even begins."

"Still, she wouldn't be here without me," said Doug with a sneer.

"And for that, Mr. Manning, you have your life. A fair payment, I think," said Gaddafi coolly. He turned to his men. "Move him into the compound…a room suitable to his…usefulness. And bring me Dr. Boudreau from Reynard's clinic!"

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Pop, Pauley and Delgado took turns going into the clinic, faking a myriad of illnesses as an excuse to see Trapper. Gaddafi's compound was under surveillance as they began to put together plans to get Leah out. Unfortunately, they weren't getting anywhere.

"Frazier's looking for a way in among the airwaves. He's of the opinion he'll be able to communicate with Leah as soon as she plugs in. He was able to find recent satellite inquiries, and he's sure it's her." Delgado whispered as he sat on an exam table, filling Trapper in on how the extraction plans were progressing. "Unfortunately, Pop says he can't find a spot close enough or high enough to post anywhere outside the compound. He's a good sniper, but without cover, he'd be a sitting duck."

Leaning in, Trapper feigned listening to Delgado's lungs. "So how are we going to get in? Do we even know where in the compound she's being kept?"

Delgado let out a sigh. "No. And every inch of that compound is covered twenty-four hours a day. But that's not the worst news."

Trapper stopped listening to Delgado's chest and glared at him. "What else?"

"We have competition. A body was found in the bay…pretty chewed up. Some guys in black…black robes, black shoes, black towels on their heads…seemed awfully interested. They waited for the local police to turn away and took off with what was left of the body. Reeks of black ops…CIA…or maybe NSA."

"Are you sure?" asked Trapper.

Delgado didn't have a chance to answer. The door flew open, and a hand went to Trapper's chest, slamming him against the wall. The guard turned, yelling something in Arabic at Delgado who played the role of a frightened peasant and cowered backwards out the back door.

Pop was just outside the apartment building door. When he saw Delgado hurrying out, looking all around, he pulled him around the corner and into a old, beat-up van. "What's happened?" asked Pop.

"Gaddafi's guards busted into the room," said Delgado, keeping watch out the window of the van.

"And you left the good doctor with them?"

Glancing at Pop, and then returning to his surveillance, Delgado continued, "After Trapper told me what was said during Gaddafi's visit, I suspected he would be _invited_ to the compound at some point."

Meanwhile, Trapper was gathering drugs and equipment he would need depending on how sick Leah might be. When he picked up a long-needled syringe, a guard grabbed his hand. Trapper growled, "If her heart goes into fib, and I can't bring her back with electric shock, I'll need this needle to inject adrenaline into her heart. That's why it's so long!", he finished with a yell.

Looking back at another guard, who nodded, the guard holding Trapper's hand let go.

"I'll need my assistant," said Trapper as he continued to pack those things he might need to care for Leah.

"Why?" demanded the guard.

Trapper's jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. He didn't immediately answer, making a concerted effort to calm his voice first. "Because all doctors…especially heart surgeons…need an assistant. They make sure we have the things we need when we need them. There may not be time for me to turn around and find something. I'll need it in my hand when I ask for it."

This time the guard turned to Reynard, who motioned to his own assistant without saying a word. The guard looked at Aggie. "You!" he barked to Reynard. "Get the woman properly attired to appear before the Colonel!"

Aggie put on a show, speaking angrily to Reynard in undertones and pulling her arm away from him. In the end, he pushed her into another room.

Pop and Delgado ducked as the two guards came out with Trapper walking between them. Behind them several more guards were carrying medical equipment and cases. "I didn't have time to tell Trapper we think the body in the bay was the doctor who was taking care of Leah while she was on Manning's boat," said Delgado. "If Gaddafi knows he's dead, his next option is Trapper…if Leah gets sick."

Pop breathed deeply. "Apparently Leah's sick…."

"Yeah," said Delgado, puckering his lips. When another group of guards came out holding Aggie, who was straining against them, Delgado elbowed Pop. "We've got an in. Let's just hope she was able to hide a radio and a weapon."

"Eliseo," said Pop. "This might be our only chance to get them out. We need to be outside that compound if there's any chance Aggie can get them out."

Delgado looked through his binoculars at the truck where the guards were loading the equipment. Trapper was waiting to go into the front of the truck.

When Trapper saw the guards taking Aggie toward the back, he told the guard with him, "I'm not going unless my assistant is with me every minute."

"No. And if you cause trouble, I will kill her," said the guard.

Moving his hands to his hips, Trapper glared at the guard. "Then you'll have to kill me, too, because I won't do a damn thing if my assistant is mistreated in any way. If you think the Colonel will let you live because you've jeopardized this woman who seems to be so important to him, go ahead and kill her."

The guard grabbed Trapper's shirt and pulled him face to face, glaring back.

Trapper held his ground and his glare, and the guard backed down. "Colonel Gaddafi will also hear about this, one way or another," said Trapper, scowling at the guard whose face went pale.

"Put him in the back with the woman. And leave them alone," huffed the guard.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

Marwa offered a wet cloth as Leah leaned over the bed and threw up into the bucket that stayed at her bedside. When she laid back on the pillow, Marwa wiped the sweat from her face and neck with another cool, damp cloth. "This is what a bad heart will do?"

Leah's voice was weak and raspy. "I don't remember being this sick. I just remember dizziness and being very tired and weak."

Marwa had grown to like Leah. She was nothing like the western kafir women her father and her mothers had described. "It must be very bad this time. Are you…frightened?" she asked timidly as she sat next to Leah on the side of the bed.

Smiling as she glanced at Marwa before she closed her eyes, Leah replied, "No. I'm not afraid. If I die, so be it. I'll be with my husband and children."

"You had children?" asked Marwa, surprised.

Still with her eyes closed, Leah smiled at first, but then frowned and allowed a tear to trickle down the side of her face. "Yes, I did. A boy and a girl. They were killed in an automobile accident several years ago." There was a long pause before she added, "I have no one now. There's nothing to keep me here. Perhaps death will be a blessing."

This surprised Marwa as such a statement went against everything she had heard of religions outside of Islam. She dipped the cloth in a bowl of water, squeezed the excess out and put it in Leah's hand. I will return soon," she said as she left the room.

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The truck carrying Trapper, Aggie, and the equipment and medical cases arrived at the compound just as Doug Manning was escorted to his room. When Doug stepped inside, he spun around only to find the door closing behind him, and just before he tugged on the handle, he heard a latch thrown. The room was no more than a jail cell without bars…a small bed, a chair, a table and a bucket…no window.

" _You're a fool, Doug,_ " Leah's word sounded loudly in his mind until he put his hands to his ears to stop them from ringing in his head.

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Gaddafi was slipping. He allowed Trapper and Aggie to enter the compound without being searched, assuming that his men had watched them prepare the equipment and cases. The truth of the matter was that much of the medical equipment could be used as weapons. Aggie's specialty was creating something from nothing, and the scalpels, bone saws and needles in Trapper's medical kit were more than she usually had available. Of course, Trapper had no idea what Aggie packed. In addition to that, the monitoring equipment could be converted to transmit a signal relatively easily…for Aggie.

They were escorted to Leah's room where she still lay in bed, not even opening her eyes when she heard them enter. She had no reason to believe it was anyone but the Libyans, but when she heard Trapper's voice asking for a high, long table, she held her breath longer than she should have in her weakened state. She passed out quietly.

"Where's the patient?" Trapper asked.

Marwa pointed to the bed where Leah lay underneath a mound of blankets that completely hid her form.

Trapper hurried over and threw off the blankets. At first, his heart sank because he didn't recognize her. Her head was bald, but looking more closely, he saw her eyes, her nose, her mouth. It was all he could to do keep from taking her into his arms and holding her against him. He stood for a moment looking down at her before he knelt and moved his hand to her head. "She has a fever. Agatha, bring the thermometer and my stethoscope. Let's see what we have here." Turning toward Gaddafi, he asked, "What's her name?"

"Leah Haverty," said Gaddafi. He waited for a response, but Trapper had already moved the ear pieces of the stethoscope to his ears and held the bell against her chest. "Watch them," Gaddafi said quietly to a guard as he left the room.

Moving up her eyelid, he could see that her eyes weren't dilated, which meant she wasn't in immediate danger. "Agatha, see if you can find her pills. One of them will be cyclosporine."

There wasn't much furniture in the room. Aggie went through the drawer of the desk and the drawers in the table next to the bed and found the bottles. She handed the bottle of cyclosporine to Trapper.

"Half full," said Trapper. "All right. Let's see if we can get her up." He found the bucket next to the bed, and turning up his nose, he pushed it away. "Lots of bile in there. Probably something she ate. On second thought, we'll let her rest while we get the monitors set up."

Trapper and Aggie worked steadily setting up all the equipment Trapper thought he might need as the guard looked on. He left the portable defibrillator case closed, feeling sure he wouldn't need it. By the time Trapper began to hook Leah up to the monitors, she was awakening.

When she opened her eyes and they flashed recognition, Trapper moved his hand over her mouth and nodded ever so slightly toward the guard. "Welcome back. I'm Dr. _Boudreau._ I understand you're a heart recipient."

"Where did you come from?" she asked groggily. "How did you get in here?"

"The Colonel came to my clinic in the city. He'd heard I was a heart surgeon, and he'd heard you were a heart recipient…and he thought you were having a heart problem."

"Oh. Am I?"

"I don't know yet. I'm attaching some leads to your chest with these pads," he said, holding a pad up in front of her eyes before sticking it just above her left breast, all the while smiling. It seemed she was no worse for wear. "These are connected to equipment that will monitor your heart and tell me how it's doing."

Her eyes never left his as he explained what she already knew well. When her lip began to quiver, he moved the ear pieces of his stethoscope to his ears, grabbed the bell and leaned close to her. "Hold it together, kiddo," he whispered. "We'll both be in trouble if they realize you know me."

She let out the breath she was holding and took another, deep, calming breath. She wanted him to carry her out of this place, to take her back to San Francisco, marry her and set her up as a…housewife? She looked away.

"You all right?" he asked.

Glancing at him, she wrinkled her nose. "I suppose I have a lot to think about. I had stopped thinking about anything more than getting all that computer equipment to work." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I never thought I had even a remote chance of going home."

"Well," started Trapper, copying her whispers. "We still have to get you out of here."

"So, what's the plan?" she said as she watched him adjust the knobs on the monitor.

"There isn't one yet…that I know of, but I'm not exactly in the middle of it. Albert's team is here. My assistant is one of them."

The guard stepped forward, his ear turned toward the bed.

"What have you been eating lately?" asked Trapper a little louder.

"I don't know what it's called. But it's spicy, and I have had some major heartburn," she said, ending with a laugh. "Heart-burn."

Smiling, Trapper said, "The monitors show a slightly irregular heartbeat, but that might be from your stomach upset." He pointed to the bucket. "Was there more, or is that it?"

Looking over at the bucket, she answered, "That was it. But it was a lot."

"There's some blood in it. I'm thinking your stomach is pretty irritated. I'm going to give you something that will sooth it, and I'm putting you on a special diet. If your heart beat doesn't get back to normal in a couple of hours, then I'll look further at your heart." He wrote something on a piece of paper and passed it to Agatha, and turning to her, he said, "Everything you need to mix that is in my medical kit."

The guard was right in front of her when she turned toward the table. He snatched the piece of paper from her, and after looking at words he didn't understand, he yelled at her in Libyan.

Rolling his eyes, Trapper rose quickly from the bed and stood between the guard and Agatha. Snatching the paper away from the guard, he growled, "This is a formulation for medicine that will calm her stomach. Her heartbeat is irregular, and I have to determine if it's because of her stomach issues or if there's really something wrong with her heart. If you'd like, I'd be happy to explain it to your doctor or perhaps to the Colonel."

Gaddafi walked into the room, nodded the guard away and took the piece of paper. "I see nothing suspicious here," he said, eyeing the guard severely. He passed the paper back to Agatha, who went to the medical kit and began measuring different substances, using a funnel to add them to a bottle. "You think she has a stomach illness?"

Taking a deep breath, Trapper answered, "I don't know yet. But she's vomited quite a bit, and there's a little blood in it. I need to rule out anything else before I start putting her through some rather uncomfortable tests."

"How long?"

Looking back at Leah, Trapper stroked his beard. "If she responds to the medication and her heartbeat normalizes, I'd say two, maybe three days. If it's really her heart, I don't know. It will depend on what my tests show."

"Dr. Boudreau, Miss Haverty has important work to do. Would it concern you if someone comes here to "No, as long as they keep it to a minimum," Trapper answered.

"Very well. I will arrange a visitor for this afternoon. I trust you will stay until you can pronounce her well enough to work."

Trapper's jaw crooked. "Do I have a choice?"

"No, Doctor. You do not." With that said, Gaddafi spun on his heel and exited the room, telling the guard to remain outside the door.

Trapper immediately went to the side of the bed and sat down, leaning over Leah whose eyes widened as she slightly shook her head.

"Cameras?" whispered Trapper.

She nodded and moved her eyes to the location of the cameras hidden in the material on the walls.

"Miss Haverty, it seems we'll be here awhile, at least until you're well. I'm going to give you something to settle your stomach, but I think it would be better if we go ahead and prepare the equipment we'll need to examine your heart if the medication doesn't help." Moving his hand to gently touch her head, he added, "Rest. And let me know if you feel sick again." Next, he joined Agatha at the medical bag and scribbled something down on a chart.

Agatha read silently to herself what he wrote. _"This is the best opportunity you'll have to wire the equipment."_

"Agatha, we'll need the portable EKG machine set up next to the bed. And I want the cuff on her arm and the heart rate monitor on her finger. Make sure you test it. It was handled roughly on the way here."

He winked, and she returned the wink. "Yes, Doctor."

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Frazier sat in the back of the van with earphones over his ears checking every possible frequency used by the heart monitoring equipment Trapper took with him into Gaddafi's compound. Delgado unrolled maps of what was reported to be the inside of Gaddafi's compound, but could do nothing else without information from Aggie.

It was a little over two hours after she and Trapper went in that Frazier got the first signal. Once he confirmed with a codeword, Aggie began transmitting in small bursts of morse code.

Listening intently to the beeps coming through his headphones, Frazier spoke aloud as he took notes. "They entered through a door on the west side of the building at the south corner of the property. Then an immediate left, second right, long hall, next right, next left, and then into a room at the end of a hallway."

Delgado drew a line on one of the building plans for each piece of the directions as Frazier repeated them. He marked a star on the map at the room where Leah was being treated, and whistled, shaking his head. "They're at the back of the building…no windows, no doors, and a wall that's three feet thick. Each one of the rooms in that part of the building are at the end of a short hallway. The only thing there are the air conditioning ducts." He pulled another drawing detailing the ventilation of the building. Pointing, he said, "There are caps here, here and here. Each at the head of the short hallways with a single duct going back to the rooms."

"Any other exits besides the way they went in?" asked Pop.

"There are none in the back, but there's one on each side, here and here," said Delgado making marks on the plans.

Frazier sent another message in morse. " _Do you know where the equipment room is_?"

"-. -," came the answer.

"She said 'no,'" said Frazier.

"-. - - -.- . -"

Frazier laughed. "That a girl, Aggie."

"What'd she say," asked Delgado.

"'Not yet,'" Frazier answered with a wide grin.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

As Trapper sat on the edge of the bed listening to Leah's heart, the Colonel came in quietly without being noticed and observed.

Agatha turned with the bottle of medicine she had prepared in her hand and almost dropped it.

Gaddafi bowed his head. "I apologize for your fright."

Stiffening, Trapper looked down at Leah and almost imperceptibly shook his head. Removing the ear pieces of his stethoscope from his ears, he felt her forehead.

Leah closed her eyes, letting the touch of his hand spark her memories of their last night together, giving her the hope she had almost lost.

"Your heartbeat is still a bit fast." When Agatha touched his shoulder, he turned and took the medicine and a spoon from her. "But I think it may be something you ate, rather than a problem with your heart." He looked at the monitor, and feigned surprise at Gaddafi's presence. "Miss Haverty, this medicine should settle your stomach. I suggest you be more particular about your meal choices."

She smiled, allowing her eyes to flutter for the Colonel's benefit. "I don't get a menu. Just a plate…or a bowl."

"Dr. Boudreau, are you saying her diet is the cause of this?" asked Gaddafi.

After putting a spoon of the medicine in her mouth, Trapper stood and turned to the Colonel. "I have no idea what she's been fed, but it's not settling. Libyan cuisine is not bland by any means, and those who aren't used to it sometimes have problems."

"What would you suggest, Doctor?"

"A mildly seasoned soup for a day or two, and then perhaps bread and meat without any kind of sauce. And fresh vegetables."

Gaddafi turned to his daughter who had accompanied him. "See to it Marwa." The young woman bowed. "And what have your machines told you about her heart?"

"Other than a slightly elevated heart rate, it tells me that she's all right…for now. But without knowing her history beyond the heart transplant, I can't say."

"History?" asked Gaddafi, slightly turning his head. "What other history?"

"Well, it would be helpful to know if she's had any problems since the heart transplant. If she had mild rejection at the start or if she's required follow up surgery to repair any problems with the arteries leading to the heart. It's not uncommon."

Gaddafi nodded. "We have none of her medical history."

"Then I would like to come back every other day or so to check her condition. When she feels like talking, I'd like to ask her a few questions about her medical history."

"Dr. Reynard called you by another name." Turning his head slightly and narrowing his eyes, Gaddifi said, "Trapper, I believe it was. How did you come to have another name, Doctor?"

Scratching his head, Trapper managed a smile. "It's a nickname and easier to say than Dr. Boudreau, so I usually ask people to call me Trapper. It actually started as rather derogatory. You see, in Canada, we hunt…elk, moose, deer, bear. I don't use a gun to kill them. I trap them."

"Why do you not use a gun?" asked Gaddafi, seeming genuinely interested.

"I don't like guns, Colonel. They do a great deal of damage to tissue whether it's animal or human. Besides that, they can do a great deal of damage to pelts and hides. No one wants a pelt with holes in it."

Gaddafi looked him up and down, then quickly nodded. "I will arrange for you to stay."

Trapper's jaw dropped, but he quickly recovered it. "I mean no disrespect Colonel, but I came here to provide medical services to all the people of Libya, especially those local to Tripoli, not one American woman who should be in her own home in her own bed." Trapper backtracked at Gaddafi's stone-like expression. "She's in no danger of losing her life, however, I have patients in town who are. I will stay to get her back on her feet, but beyond that, Colonel, Dr. Reynard is expecting me back to help in the clinic."

"You will come back."

Trapper chuckled. "Of course. House calls come with the territory. And I don't need an escort."

Gaddafi's suspicious expression had not changed. "Why are you doing this?"

Moving his hands to his hips, Trapper put a little pepper in his reply. "I'm a doctor. I'm here to heal people, regardless of whether they live in a house, on a street, in barracks," he said, nodding toward the guard. He motioned around him. "Or in a compound."

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Frazier elbowed Delgado at the same time he ducked. "We've got company."

Both men pulled their equipment to the floor of the van, covered it and themselves with an assortment of textiles, and lay still. They felt the van shake as someone pulled hard on the door handle.

"Did you lock it?" Delgado whispered.

Though Eliseo couldn't see, Frazier rolled his eyes. "I'm not even going to answer that."

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Trapper noticed that Agatha had been paying particularly close attention to the monitors while Gaddafi visited. "Excuse me, Doctor, but you should look at the monitor."

Looking back at Gaddafi, Trapper said, "Excuse me," and went back to the monitors, where he and Agatha put their heads together, pointing at the moving lines on the monitor. "Frazier says you have to stay here," whispered Aggie. "The US government knows you're in Tripoli. They're looking for you."

"You're right, Agatha." He grabbed his stethoscope and listened to Leah's chest, flaring his nostrils at her questioning eyes. "Cough," he mouthed.

Leah did as she was told, but what started as a mild hack turned into an all out choke which sent the alarms on the monitors beeping all at once. It took a few moments and a glass of water to get it under control.

"Colonel, is your offer of a room still good?" asked Trapper. He turned to the Colonel. "She just went into AFib." When the Colonel lifted an eyebrow, Trapper explained. "It's call atrial fibrillation. It's arrhythmia…an irregular heartbeat that can cause blood clots, stroke or other problems. These problems she's been having…nausea, light-headedness, weakness…they're all symptoms."

"Why didn't you know this before?" Gaddafi demanded.

"Because she had gone back into normal rhythm," said Trapper, moving the bell of his stethoscope back to her chest. "This is the first we've seen of it, but it warrants my attention."

"I will have your assistant escorted back to your clinic. Marwa can assist you as you need."

Trapper's eyes shot up to Aggie's. They shared a nervous stare before Trapper snatched the sheet of paper with the recipe for Leah's stomach medicine out of Aggie's hand and walked over to Gaddafi. "Can she read this?"

Gaddafi looked at the paper and passed it to Marwa. "This is not written in a language I know," Marwa said.

"No, it's not," said Trapper, gently taking the paper from Marwa. "The medical profession uses Latin."

He turned to Gaddafi. "She also knows nothing about monitoring the machines. I need Agatha if I'm going to be able to care for Miss Haverty, especially if we have to deal with a heart issue. There's no use in my staying if Agatha doesn't stay as well."

By the look on Gaddafi's face, Trapper knew he wasn't pleased. Still, Trapper couldn't afford to budge, so he held his fix on Gaddafi's eyes without flinching.

"Very well," the Colonel finally said. "But you must have her on her feet by tomorrow. She must be in the equipment room to finish what she started."

Sighing heavily, Trapper said, "I'll try my best. It appears she has a stomach issue as well as a heart issue, so I have to be careful with what I give her. I don't want the medication for her stomach to interfere with the AFib medication I give her for her heart. Is there a room nearby? I don't want to be too far away if there's trouble. Either Agatha or myself will be with her at all times."

Gaddafi left after shouting orders to his guards to prepare the room next door. He went straight to his own doctor and described what Trapper had said about Leah and her treatment.

"I would say, Colonel, that this Dr. Boudreau knows the heart very well," said the Libyan doctor. "What you have described is common procedure for a heart patient. The stomach issues as well. And Marwa would be inadequate to assist him without special education."

Gaddafi was so focused on getting his dirty bomb, that he left Dr. Boudreau and Agatha under the surveillance of a single guard in Leah's room. Aggie was able to communicate with Frazier, telling him the layout of that part of the building she had seen, giving him frequent reports on Leah's condition, and of Trapper's growing impatience.

Trapper had insisted on staying in the equipment room while Leah was there. When Gaddafi refused, Trapper stepped chest to chest with the Libyan dictator. "If she goes into AFib again, we'll need to bring her out of it quickly. There may not be enough time to get to her from her quarters." Colonel Gaddafi's personal guards jerked Trapper back, each man holding him up on his toes by his arms.

Now, Gaddafi stepped into his face. " _If_ her heart goes, doctor. You have not convinced me that she is not better. She is not pale, she does not appear weak, and she is eating. I will not have you slow her down in her work." An angry nod at the door sent the guards, with Trapper between them, out of the room. They threw Trapper to the floor of his quarters and locked him in. Trapper sprang up and hit the door hard, beating it with his fists until he tired. He spun around and growled loudly. He was stuck, and there was nothing he could do until Gaddafi allowed him to leave his room. Even so, calming down wasn't something that was going to come easily. Leah's AFib had been real, and under the circumstances, it could happen again at anytime. If it did, every second would count. He had just found her…alive. He was about to lose her again.

Aggie remained in Leah's quarters. The transmitter had been quiet for some time. There had been nothing more to tell her team, but she had given them a lot to think about. She knew they were taking their time to plan how they would extract all of them from Gaddafi's compound.

Meanwhile, Leah was making swift progress now that all the equipment was fully functional. She sat at a terminal, typing in commands, seemingly looking for connections to satellites while Gaddafi became more and more impatient.

"Why does this take so long?" he demanded.

Without taking her eyes off the computer screen or even slowing her fingers on the keyboard, she explained, "This is the most difficult part, and it's going to take the most time. I don't know exactly where to look for connections to these satellites. The best I can do is move down any path I find and hope it gets me into one of them. And even if I get in, I have to search all communications coming into the satellite…test it to see what it is and where it's going." She stopped typing to look at him. "And then, I have to do it again on another satellite so we have a backup if the Department of Defense tracks us back to the satellite. Once they do that, they will shut the satellite down. In fact, they could very well shut them all down." She shrugged. "But it would take them some time to do that considering many aren't US owned satellites."

"And what happens when they shut down the satellites?" asked the Libyan technician Gaddafi had assigned to her. He had stopped speaking through Marwa. She wasn't able to communicate the technical jargon going back and forth, so he…compromised his integrity…for Gaddafi.

Leah had very little tolerance for him. He was supposed to be one of their best technicians, but she had to explain almost everything in what had become childish terms, which didn't make things any easier. She was just a woman after all, and she was being condescending to a man.

When he had spoken to Gaddafi, the Colonel promised, "You will be rewarded greatly for your tolerance of the woman. You may have her, if you want."

Closing his eyes and grimacing, the technician said, "And what would I do with such a woman."

"Shame her in the streets, if you like." Both men laughed.

Frazier sat in the van, his equipment connected to Leah's computer through a modem she had managed to install without notice. He knew exactly what she was doing and was 'following' her. When she created what looked like a viable connection, he tensed, not knowing if she was somehow capable of doing what Gaddafi wanted her to do. Still, he knew she was stalling. She was also communicating with Mark Hansen somehow who was doing his best to make it look like he was assisting her.

Another week into the search for a pathway, she announced she had found her way into the UK's EXOSTAT satellite. Gaddafi's technician congratulated her on her finding, pulled up a chair and sat next her. She typed something so fast, he didn't catch it, though he could see it was a transmission.

"What was that?"

She looked at him. "What was what?"

"You just sent a transmission."

"I sent the telemetry for the EXOSTAT over to Mr. Hansen's terminal," said Leah. "He'll be monitoring any new connections that might indicate we've been found out."

Mark had already been following everything she did. When the Libyan stood over his shoulder, he pointed to the telemetry they were both watching.

"Stop what you are doing!" yelled the Libyan technician. Turning to the guards, he said, "Take them to their quarters."

As Leah stood, she deftly hit two keys on her keyboard, cutting Frazier's connection off. Without an active connection, they would never find the leak.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

"Leah, are you all right? What's happened?" Trapper stood in front of her anxiously awaiting an answer. He wanted to scoop her up and carry her to the bed where he could immediately assess her condition. But casting his eyes to the side, he saw the guard in the room watching them closely. Instead, he took her by the arm and led her there, pulled his stethoscope out of his coat pocket and began listening to her heartbeat. It was fast. "What's happened?" he asked quietly.

"Gaddafi's technician saw something as he watched over my shoulder. I had sent a transmission to Frazier, but I also sent fake telemetry for a satellite to Mark, so that's where I directed the technician. Mark confirmed it, but they sent us here anyway. The technician was angry, so I'm sure he suspects something."

"Will they find anything?" asked Trapper as he stood and moved the bell of the stethoscope over her back.

"No. I was able to delete the connection before I left."

After connecting two leads to her chest, Trapper stood and directed his attention to a string of paper coming out of one of the machines. "Does this mean you actually found a connection to a satellite?" he whispered.

"No, but I've made it look like I've found a packet that might get into the DOD."

"Leah!" he barked a little too loudly.

The guard walked over and looked at the paper coming out of the machine.

Giving the guard a hostile look, he asked a little louder than he'd been speaking, "Have you taken your next dose of cyclosporine?"

Leah closed her eyes and folded her lips into a tight line, hoping the guard would see aggravation. "I haven't. I had not yet been allowed…until now."

Spinning around on his heels, Trapper faced the guard. "Inform your colonel that if he continues to ignore her medication schedule, he could end his chances of finding whatever it is he's looking for. Going without her medication could lead to her death." Next, he turned to Aggie. "Prepare her medications."

When the guard moved away, he continued the conversation prior to the guard's interest. "You can't lead them into the DOD. You'll be charged with treason."

She sighed tiredly. "That's not a problem, Trapper. It can't be done. But if I don't continue to look like I'm making progress, he'll know that I'm either stalling or that I have no idea what I'm doing. Either way, he'll have no use for me…or you and Aggie, and I think you know where that will lead." She glanced at the guard and lowered her voice. "I've created something that looks like a path into a classified area. I don't think the Libyans will know it's not real, but they'll find telemetry that looks real when they look at the data on the tape, and that's all they'll find."

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"Something's wrong," said Frazier. "She deactivated the modem for our connection without warning. She said that one of Gaddafi's technicians was sharp. Maybe he saw something."

Delgado rubbed the back of his neck. This wasn't good news. "Let's just hope that whatever's going on, she's covered her tracks."

Frazier bowed his head in thought. He didn't want to tell what he had seen until he knew she was able to get through with it, but he had a responsibility to report it to his superior. "She may have found a way in," he said remorsefully.

His lower jaw dropping, Delgado said "What? She knows she can't do that."

"Well, she may have," said Frazier. "It's possible she cut the connection because she didn't want me to see it."

Taking a deep breath, Delgado said, "Let's not jump to conclusions. Let's give her time to reconnect and see where she is. If she's actually made a connection, you'll have to cut her off. We can't let her in."

"If we don't let her in somewhere, Gaddafi is eventually going to blow a gasket."

"We'll just have to figure out how to get them out before that happens," said Delgado, nodding. "Pop and Pauley are working on a way to get in and get them out as we speak."

Frazier chuckled sarcastically. "We both know that compound has guards on top of guards. I'm not confident they'll find a way in without waging an all out war."

"Well," said Delgado shrugging. "If waging war is the only way, that's what we have to do. We have enough men to make the Libyans believe it is a war. They'll lock down the area of the compound where they're keeping Leah, Trapper and Aggie, so we have to be prepared to go their first, and if necessary start our defenses there."

"Gaddafi will execute them at the first sign of trouble," said Frazier.

Delgado closed his eyes, going over the almost hopeless odds in his head. "That's why we have to get to them first, before the fighting starts."

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Ernie paced back and forth in the small dining room on the boat. It had been two days since Delgado had come back to the boat, and what he'd left them with wasn't necessarily good news. Trapper had been taken to Gaddafi's compound and hadn't returned to the clinic.

"Ernie?" said Gonzo softly.

She looked at him, then continued her pacing.

"Ernie, it doesn't have to be bad news. It could be that he was needed for his specific set of skills. Maybe for Leah."

"Something is going on, Gonzo. Delgado hasn't been back. He comes back every day to rest, but he's been gone two days now. That has to mean something has happened."

Pauley rushed into the room wanting to deliver some encouraging news considering they hadn't heard anything for awhile. He knew Trapper's friends would be concerned. "We've just gotten a transmission from the van. "Leah had connected Frazier to her network, but suddenly cut him off."

Ernie and Gonzo looked guardedly at each other.

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything bad. We also got a message from Aggie. Trapper and Leah are both in Leah's quarters…waiting to go back. It seems one of Gaddafi's technicians saw something. They sent Leah back to her quarters so they could check it out. But Leah says she didn't leave them anything to find. That's the reason she cut the connection."

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Leah sat calmly on the side of the bed, her hands folded on her lap and her head bowed.

Trapper watched her from a chair on the other side of the room. _She's giving up._ He stood, glanced over at the guard, then walked to the bed and sat down. "You're very calm," he whispered. "What's going on in that lovely, bald head of yours?"

Without raising her head or looking at him, she said, "Trapper, I'm tired. I'm tired of being someone's pawn. First it was Doug." She snorted. "I have no idea where Doug even is now. He was here, but I haven't seen him for over a week. And now I've put you in danger." She looked up at him. "I wish you had never come for me. You'd all be better off if you'd just accepted I was dead."

"I could never do that. I knew you weren't dead, Leah. I could still feel you…here," Trapper said, covering his heart with his hand.

"You need to tell them I'm all right and go back to the clinic." She glanced at Aggie who was pushing buttons on the monitoring machines. "And take Florence Nightingale with you."

Trapper chuckled. "Not on your life."

"That's right, Trapper. Not on my life. On yours."

"Miss Haverty." Both Leah and Trapper looked toward the voice to find Colonel Gaddafi standing in the doorway. "Dr. Boudreau, I thought you were a cardiologist."

"No, I'm a cardiothoracic surgeon. But all doctors are required to take courses in psychology because the other half of our work is dealing with our patient's feelings."

"And how is your patient?" asked Gaddafi. "Mentally, of course."

Trapper stood and faced Gaddafi. "She's not feeling anything she shouldn't normally feel under the circumstances."

"And how are you feeling, Dr. Boudreau?"

"Hamstrung."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" he looked back at Leah. "The stress of whatever she's doing for you…is going to kill her. She knows that. She doesn't expect to leave here alive." Clasping his hands in front of him, Trapper continued, "You see, living with a heart you aren't born with…it's a fine balance…a dance of sorts, one move balancing out another. There's nothing here to balance her stress. It's constant."

"Are you saying she's dying?"

"In a way, yes."

"And how long would you say she has before she…leaves us?"

"I have no idea. It could be tonight…tomorrow…the next day." Trapper shrugged. "It will happen when her heart has reached its limit."

"Then we should get her back to work before it goes," said Gaddafi. He turned to leave, but stopped. "It is your job to keep her heart going. Your life will end when hers ends, Doctor."


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

Leah sat at her keyboard waiting for permission to begin, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Gaddafi paced behind her. "We have checked the system you've built here, Miss Haverty. Do you know what we found?"

Wiping her face, she replied, "Nothing. You found nothing. Because there wasn't anything to find."

"That is the reason you are still here," he said. "I'm tired of waiting, and your doctor seems to think that what you _love_ to do is killing you. So you'll find schematics today."

"I can't guarantee that. It all depends on what packets I can…"

"If you don't succeed today, your nurse will be executed. If you don't succeed tomorrow, your Dr. Boudreau will be executed."

"And then what? You'll kill me?"

Bending down to her ear, he whispered in the coldest voice she'd ever heard, one that sent fear into her soul, that made her shudder. "I won't kill you. I will keep you alive, and I will conquer you…over and over again."

Leah's fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before they began to fly, making it look like she was opening pathways, moving from one to another until she found her way back into the area of the machine where she'd built the EXOSTAT satellite. Somewhere in the middle, she signaled Frazier at the same time she sent telemetry over to Mark's terminal where he looked like he was helping her search.

Frazier could see she was searching for the packet she had found earlier…when she'd cut him off. Now she was racing back to it faster than she had before. He had no idea the satellite only existed on her machine. But something had changed.

Delgado flew into the van and slammed the sliding door shut. "We have a problem."

Frazier didn't take his eyes off his terminal. "You're right, we do. It looks like she's back into the DOD systems. She's entering…" He looked closer at the data coming back to him. "This isn't right," he said, looking closer at his screen. What's your problem?"

"There's black ops everywhere. Our team said it looks like they're setting explosives."

Pulling off his headphones, Frazier turned his full attention to Delgado. "They're going to blow the building?"

"Evidently, they don't know which building to blow. They're setting charges around the entire compound," said Delgado, "which means we have to leave or they'll find us."

"What if she finds something and downloads it?" asked Frazier.

"Let the DOD worry about that. Our orders are to extract her, and that's what we're going to do. Send a message to Aggie to get ready for explosions. Tell her we'll extract from the west door."

Frazier turned back to his terminal and cut the connection to Leah. He brought the Morse transmission channel online and began tapping out the code to send the message to Aggie, who responded almost as soon as he was finished.

Aggie walked to the camera in the room, reached behind it and cut the wire with surgical scissors. Next, she walked over to the guard and smiled at him. "You wouldn't want anyone to see us, would you?" she asked, playing with the buttons on his uniform shirt. When he smiled back, she moved her hand to his neck, pulled the surgical scissors out of her sleeve and stabbed his neck at the carotid artery. As the man slumped to the floor, she went back to her work table and pulled all the medical cases out, opening each one and removing the equipment. At the bottom of each case were pieces of weapons, knives and ammunition, a vest and a belt. She began putting an AK-47 together, loaded several magazines, then moved to the pistols, loading several magazines for each and storing them in the pockets of the vest. Next, she opened Marwa's wardrobe, selecting a plain white robe and black hijab to cover her head.

Trapper was allowed to sit in a corner of the equipment room out of the way. Every now and then, he would go to Leah's station, put his fingers on her neck and check her pulse.

Butterflies invaded her stomach with each touch of his fingers, but she couldn't tell him that was why her heart was racing. She hoped he would realize it. He must have. Before he went back to his chair in the corner, he gently squeezed her shoulder. But the next time he came forward, her neck and shoulder muscles had tensed.

Pulling his stethoscope out of his pocket, he moved the earpieces to his ears, took the bell in his hand and leaned down to place it on her chest. He didn't have a chance to listen as a hand clapped hard on his shoulder and pulled him backward. Spinning around, he yelled, "I'm not here to watch her collapse. I'm here to prevent it."

The guard didn't expect Trapper to verbally attack him and took a step backward. He looked over at the Libyan technician in charge, and after looking at Trapper's glare, he nodded. The guard allowed Trapper to approach Leah.

Leaning down as if to listen to her heart, he whispered, "What's happened?"

"I've lost Frazier," she whispered back. "He cut the connection. Something's happening." He lingered by her side as he listened to her heart and watched her fingers fly over the keyboard, her eyes scanning what looked like raining characters streaming down her monitor. She'd look, and then type, and then characters would zoom and open up a new screen of characters. At the same time, Mark's monitor would light up with multiple streams which he'd separate and close.

"I'm in," she announced, causing a rush of Libyan men to her monitor. "Mark, keep them off me," she said calmly.

At first, Trapper thought she was talking about the Libyan's, but when they just stood and watch the screen intently, he realized she was talking about someone or something she appeared to be fighting on her screen. Each stream of data she expanded was almost immediately closed. Trapper watched her jaw muscles work as she clenched her teeth.

Finally, she said, "I've got it. Mark, keep as many of these open as you can." She looked at Mark's monitor, and when it had lighted up with stream after stream of data opening and closing, she began again on her own monitor.

"How do you know what you're looking at," asked Trapper, standing amid the Libyan men.

Several men stared at him.

"Sorry. I'm a doctor, not a programmer."

She stopped typing for a moment and pointed to something on the screen. "And here it is. This is the one we need." Just as she began what looked like a download, a guard rushed into the room, pulled the other guards out, and yelled at the Libyan technicians before he slammed the door closed and locked it.

"What's happening?" said Leah, standing up from her terminal.

The Libyan technician pushed her back down in her chair. The compound is being attacked, but that is not your concern. Keep working!"

Just as she began again, a loud explosion shook the building. She stopped again and looked up as debris began to float down from the ceiling. "What was that?"

When a second explosion collapsed the back wall of the room, Trapper grabbed Leah and dove under a table with her, holding her against him. Still another explosion rocked the building. Leah and Trapper could see the feet of the men running for cover, one unfortunate soul falling to the floor in front of them under the weight of part of the ceiling.

"Are you going to do something for him?" asked Leah when Trapper didn't move.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Well, no. You're a doctor. Most of these men have no idea what I'm doing. They don't know I was kidnapped."

"Leah, the only thing I plan to do is get you out of here," said Trapper, straining to see the door.

Another explosion sent dust under the table. Leah squeezed into Trapper who wrapped her in his arms. "How are we going to get out of here!" she yelled above the cracking, the gunfire, and the shouting around them.

He wore a surprisingly calm smile, a smile that she remembered from when everything was perfect…contentment shining in his eyes. Before she knew it, his lips were on hers, and his arms were pulling her tightly against him. Moving away slightly, he looked into her eyes. "No matter what happens here, Leah, I will die a happy man for this moment."

"I don't plan to die, Trapper, so you'd better not. I'll haunt you in your grave." She looked toward where the door had been. "I'm sure Frazier cut me off because he knew this was going to happen." Quickly turning back to him, she asked, "Where's Agatha?"

"She was in your quarters when I left," answered Trapper, smiling at her apparent recovery.

At that moment, he heard his name being called above the din. "Excuse me for a minute," he said, and stuck his head out from under table. "Here!"

Aggie squatted down in front of the table. "You two ready to get out of here?"

Leah squinted at the person squatted in front of her wearing a robe and a man's keffiyeh. "Agatha?" said Leah.

"I prefer Aggie." Before she could say anything else, Marwa knelt beside her and almost took Aggie's knife in her neck.

"Wait!" yelled Leah. "Marwa, you have to get out of here."

"I am leaving my father's compound for good. But I want to make sure you get out as well." She turned to Aggie. "I will go ahead of you in the other direction…east. My father's men are coming from that direction." She turned to Trapper and Leah. "I will tell them I believe you are under the rubble…that I did not see you come out. They will search this room first. That will give you some time." Leah reached out, and the two women embraced. "I do not know where I will go. But I do know that I want to know more of the world outside of this compound."

"Good luck, Marwa," said Leah before Marwa looked around her, then stood and ran out of the room.

Aggie shoved a handgun toward Trapper. "You know how to use this, Doc, so don't hesitate if necessary."

Trapper smiled. "What else would you have me do?"

"Run like hell," Aggie said as she looked around her. "Leah, you're behind me. Trapper keep her in front of you. Stay low. Let's go."

"Wait!" yelled Leah just as Aggie turned. "What about Mark?"

"He's not my concern," yelled Aggie. "Now, let's go!"

Leah grabbed the table leg and wrapped her arms around it. "I'm not going without him. You have to find him."

"Leah, we don't have time!" yelled Trapper, pulling her out from under the table. But Aggie had disappeared. He had no idea which way to run. "Aggie!"

"Okay, I have Mark. Can we go now!" shouted Aggie.

Gaddafi's personal guards had whisked him away to an underground bunker when the first bomb detonated. Now Gaddafi was yelling orders, "Find her and bring her here. And if the white devils take her…" he snarled, "pray to Allah for your passing for you will meet your end today!"

Just after Aggie, Leah, Trapper and Mark had left, the Libyan guard stormed the equipment room, looking under fallen shelves, ceiling, under tables and in the circuit bays. Once it was clear the female kafir wasn't in the room, the leader pointed, two men to the forward entrance, two men back the way they had come, and two men to follow him out the third door…the door Aggie had taken Leah and Trapper.

That door was the fastest way to the closest exit on the west side of the building. As they passed through, another explosion rocked the building and the roof began to collapse taking the last man behind the lead guard and sending the man behind him to the floor.

"Get up!" the Libyan yelled.

The guard behind him crawled over to the third man and moved his hand to his neck. "He's dead," he said, taking the man's rifle and moving the strap over his shoulder so that the rifle was on his back.

"Leave him. We must find her or the Colonel will execute us all."

The explosions had destroyed the front of the room Doug occupied, and now he was free, running down the same hall to the west entrance. He saw Aggie coming toward him, and not knowing who she was, he ducked behind a piece of a wall. When he saw Leah, he reached out just as she went by and pulled her back into what was left of a room.

By the time Trapper had gotten Aggie's attention and the two entered the room, Doug had Leah up against the wall, her feet off the floor and his hands wrapped around her neck.

Trapper didn't hesitate. He hit Doug in the side with all his weight and the two men tumbled to the floor while Leah slumped against the wall. Trapper gained the edge and sat up, pointing his gun at Doug's head.

"Please, don't!" cried Doug. "I just want to get out of here, same as you."

"Without Leah?" Trapper said, snarling.

Pulling Trapper back by his collar, Aggie said calmly, "Leave him here, Trapper. Leah needs you now."

Trapper snapped his head back toward Leah who was still laying limp against the wall. Mark was with her trying to revive her. Forgetting about Doug, Trapper shoved Mark away and pulled her into his arms, gently patting her cheek. "Leah, wake up. Leah?"


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

"Hm?"

"Wake up. We have to go."

"Trapper? Tell me this has all been just a bad dream."

"It's not a dream, Sweetheart, and we have to get out of here." He stood and pulled her up against him. "Come on. Move your feet."

Mark had retreated and slumped against a wall. He knew Leah was his only ally, and if she was unconscious the other's might leave him. But Leah moved.

Aggie looked out of the hole that had been a doorway, left and right. She couldn't see them coming, but she could hear the Libyan's voices. "Trapper, let's go. They're coming."

When Trapper stepped out of the room, Aggie nodded toward the west entrance. "Go that way. I'm right behind you."

Trapper didn't hesitate. He moved Leah's arm over his shoulder and moved his arm around her waist. Mark appeared on her other side and took her arm, and both men moved her down the hall as fast as they could.

As she turned back into the room, Aggie stood face to face with Doug, his mouth twisted into a snarl.

"Get out of my way," he said as he tried to shove her aside.

She smiled at the challenge, and before she even realized it because it was an automatic response, she jammed the butt of her rifle into his chin, knocking him cold. She dragged him out into the hall and left him in the Libyan's path, hoping his minor distraction would buy them back the time he'd stolen from them. Ducking low at the sound of gunfire, she ran toward the west entrance and found Mark and Trapper with Leah, waiting just short of the door. She pulled Trapper down to the floor, and then shouted over her radio. "We're here. Blow it!"

Turning her back toward the door, she moved her arm around Trapper's back while Trapper shielded Leah with his body. The explosion left their ears ringing, and when Aggie shouted for Trapper to move, he couldn't make out her words, but understood the urgency on her face. He turned with Leah and was immediately relieved of her. As soon as she disappeared through the doors, another pair of hands reached in an pulled him through.

By this time, Aggie was exchanging fire with the Libyans. Two of Delgado's men stepped into the hall and returned fire as Aggie threw a hand grenade. They all came flying out of the door with the explosion. Everyone pulled on white robes and traditional headwear. Frazier and Delgado pulled the robe over Leah's head while Trapper did the same for himself.

"Who is this guy?" yelled Frazier.

"Mark Hansen," answered Trapper. "Leah won't go without him."

"Great!" Delgado shouted angrily. "Get a robe on him and bring him with us."

With a guard on either side of Leah, Trapper and Mark were rushed through a line of Albert's extraction team into the streets of Tripoli where people were running here and there, all wearing the same white robes and smaghs or turbans on their heads.

As they ran, Leah collapsed. Two men pulled Trapper away and down the street while Leah was lifted on the back of another man, who held her arms over his shoulders and in front of him as he continued down the street. In that instant, those that formed a line at the back drew fire, a bullet hitting Aggie.

Trapper jerked away from the two men holding him, and tried to run back to her, but the his escorts quickly grabbed him. As he struggled against them, he yelled, "I have to help her."

"You can't help her here, Sir," said one man without hesitating to drag Trapper away while another of the men lifted Aggie's limp body and carried her through the crowd.

Trapper, Leah and Aggie were loaded into the back of a truck set up for minimal triage. Frazier and Delgado jumped inside just as the truck pulled away. The truck was the second in a line of four trucks, one in front and two behind moving side by side to fight the Libyans who were following. Finally, a grenade from a launcher hit the front of the middle Libyan chase truck, exploding on impact and sending the trucks beside it on their sides. Those behind them had to stop.

In the back of the triage truck, Trapper looked up from Leah to a familiar voice.

"Trapper, move her over here."

Gonzo smiled back at him as Delgado lifted Leah and laid her on the stretcher at the back of the truck. When he finally looked over at Aggie, he found Ernie examining her.

"Sit back, Trapper," came the smooth Jamaican voice. "You deserve a rest."

"Gonzo, how is she?" he asked tiredly.

"Sounds like AFib, Trapper," said Gonzo, righting himself after listening to her heart with his stethoscope. "I'll keep her sedated until we get to the ship. We'll have to shock her there."

"No, we can't shock her until we know the condition of her heart. She went into AFib earlier. The cocktail…or the stress…may have caused damage we don't know about."

"Trapper," said Ernie, waiting for Trapper to reluctantly look away from Leah. "Aggie's bleeding internally. She'll bleed out if we don't stop it."

Trapper traded places with Frazier who was crouched with his gun and watching everything going on behind them. Moving next to Ernie, Trapper took the stethoscope Ernie offered, and listened to Aggie's heart and lungs, then looked at the wound. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Do you remember the bus in Korea…the one with all the children?"

"How could I forget?" said Ernie quietly.

"Well, we're about to do surgery, but instead of a bus flying down a dirt road, we're in the back of a truck flying down a dirt road being fired upon. Eliseo, you'll have to help. Gonzo has to monitor Leah."

Both Ernie and Trapper got Delgado into a gown, cap, mask and gloves. "Now, Eliseo," said Ernie. "Don't touch anything until Trapper tells you to. Don't even use your hands to steady yourself," she said after balancing Delgado through a particularly bumpy section of the road.

Even with the bumpy ride, Trapper and Ernie managed to get into their own scrubs and get the minimum surgical equipment together they would need to stop Aggie's bleeding.

"Ernie, once you get the IV started, I'm going to need you to monitor her heart rate and blood pressure. Eliseo can hand me what I need if you tell him which instrument," said Trapper.

"Do you people always do your surgeries like this?" asked Delgado nervously.

"Only during a war," said Ernie, winking at Trapper, who finally cracked a smile.

"All right," said Trapper, pulling Propofol into a syringe. "Let's get this into her IV," he said passing the syringe to Ernie. "The Propofol should keep her under, but l'm going to give her a local anesthetic just to make sure she doesn't feel anything," he said, loading another syringe. "Now, I'm going to slice this bullet hole a little longer and see where the bleeding is. I think it's too high to have damaged her intestines. If we're lucky, it didn't hit any organs. Eliseo, I'm going to need you to pack the opening with gauze to keep the blood from pooling around my hands. Just keep adding and replacing gauze if it starts to pool." He looked at Ernie and took a breath before he asked, "What's her numbers?"

"Pressure is 90 over 62. Heart rate is only 60, Trapper," said Ernie.

"If we don't do this now, she will bleed out. I'll just have to get in and get out quickly," said Trapper. "Eliseo, you ready?"

"Not really," answered Delgado. "Doc, this truck isn't exactly steady. How are you going to keep your hand steady."

Smiling reassuringly, Trapper said, "I've had lots of practice dodging bombs."

"That was a long time ago."

Trapper shrugged. "True. But it's something you don't forget. Here we go." Trapper picked up the scalpel from the tray Ernie had prepared and made a straight cut from two inches above one side of the entry point of the bullet to two inches below the other. Pulling back the sides of the incision, he motioned for Delgado to begin packing gauze where Trapper indicated. "I see it. It's the renal artery on the right side. Ernie, what kind of sutures do we have?"

"Prolene and monocryl," she answered.

"It doesn't have to be absorbable. The kidney is damaged, so I'll have to go in again. How 'bout a 7-0 Prolene on a CV?"

Ernie pointed to a needle and thread on the tray. "That one, Eliseo. Pick it up by the curve so Trapper can take the base." Delgado did as he was told and passed the needle to Trapper. "Now, when he's done with that, he'll need that one there to close the incision."

Trapper went to work on the artery, and with Delgado making dams with the gauze, he was able to close the nick.

"What about her kidney?" asked Delgado when Trapper asked for the other needle.

"That surgery is too delicate to do in this truck, and probably can't even be done on the boat if it's not still," answered Trapper. "This will hold her until we can find a place to stop."

When Delgado let out a defeated breath, Trapper moved a hand to his shoulder. "Her other kidney wasn't affected, so even if she loses this kidney, she'll be all right." He gave Delgado a reassuring look and a minute to let that sink in. "Now, let's get this equipment stowed. This is all going to have to come out of the truck when we get to the boat. I don't want to lose any of it."

A tap on the window of the cab told Delgado they were almost there and would have to move quickly before Gaddafi's men…or the US forces…got there. And even once on the water and on their way, they would be running.

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Trapper directed the moving of his patients to the ship with Ernie's help. Gonzo was in charge of getting the equipment in the proper place in the medical suites.

Leah had come to, and after trying to stand and being admonished by Trapper, she surrendered and lay on the stretcher as men carried her to the ship and gently laid her on a bed. Aggie came in right behind her.

"Trapper, will she be all right?" asked Leah.

"Probably. I was able to fix a bleeding artery in the truck, but her right kidney is in trouble," he answered. His hand moved over her bald head, sending chills over her body along with shame. "Leah," he whispered as he leaned over her. "You have one of the most beautiful heads I've ever seen." He feelings got the best of him as he gave her a long, deep kiss, ending with his forehead on hers, their eyes closed, reveling in each other's touch. "I thought I'd lost you," whispered Trapper, but then part of me knew you were still here."

"How long have I been…gone?" she asked quietly.

"Almost nine months. It took us awhile to figure out it was Doug, and how he'd done it. Once we did that, Albert stepped in."

"I don't remember anything after going into the water for a swim until I woke up in a strange place with…strangers around me. And then, I couldn't talk, I couldn't…control…anything," she said, trembling, her eyes becoming moist.

"I don't want you to try to remember now. Your heart is in AFib and as soon as we're safe, I'm going to have to get it into normal rhythm. In the meantime, I need you to stay calm. Can you do that for me?" His smile and his hands on her instantly made her feel safe, something she hadn't felt in a what seemed like a very long time. "Now, I need to check on Aggie. Ernie will stay here with you."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

Once the injured and the medical team were settled in the medical suite, Albert's extraction team met in the big cabin on another boat. Delgado stepped forward and raised his hand to quiet the crowd. "We have a problem. Our team in the water here have reported five more cruisers here in the port, and another five further out. They look like US forces. We know there are at least ten Libyan vessels here. The minute we move out, they'll be on our tail. "Pauley," he said, nodding for the communications officer to speak.

"Albert is on his way to Turkey and will be there in a few hours. He wants us to figure out how to get the civilians off this boat and on their way to Turkey without being detected," said Pauley.

Someone from the crowd yelled out, "Why should we be surprised Albert asks for the impossible?" which drew chuckles from around the room.

Stepping forward again, Delgado said loudly, "We have the beginnings of a plan. We need everyone's input to figure out where all the holes are and plug them. So listen up. We will move the civilians to a small Libyan fishing boat that fits up under the cat. Pop, Frazier, Pauley, myself and two others will accompany them. When the fishing boats come into port in…" he looked at his watch, "an hour, the fishing boat will move from under the cat and move into the group of fishing boats. The cat and the rest of our boats will leave port in a hurry. That should draw the Libyans and the US boats out. Once our boats are clear, the fishing boat will head in the opposite direction toward Derna, and then across to Turkey."

A young man raised hand. "Excuse me, but didn't you just say we were outnumbered?"

Smiling, Delgado nodded. "We are. The US forces will take care of the Libyans for us. They certainly don't want Gaddafi to get hold of Miss Haverty again, and they have the numbers. The Libyans will give up and come back to port with their tails tucked between their legs."

"And what about the CIA?" asked the young man.

Delgado laughed. "It may not be the CIA, but regardless, when they realize you don't have what they want, they won't really care about you, especially because they know Albert can make their lives hell back home," said Delgado. "By that time, we'll be long gone in the fishing boat. Besides that, Albert is going to arrange air support from Derna, so if they try to get near our boat, they will be warned off."

A middle-aged man raised his hand, and Delgado nodded. "It seems to me that the weak part of this plan is getting the civilians out without being noticed. One boat floating away from the cat will draw attention, but several boats moving around the cat when the civilian boat comes from underneath should cover it."

Looking over at Pop, Delgado asked, "Can we get four more fishing boats?"

Pop nodded. "Our fisherman said he has friends. I think we can arrange it."

"Do it," said Delgado. "Anything else?" When no one in the room offered anything else, he said, "Be ready to move in half an hour. Dismissed." After the meeting, Delgado went straight to the medical suite and immediately had the attention of the three medical professionals there. "I need all of you to listen. Don't interrupt and don't question. What I'm about to tell you is our best chance." He repeated what was discussed in the meeting with the extraction team, but added, "I'm taking Aggie with us. You're her best chance to stay alive, Trapper, until we can get somewhere suitable for the surgery."

"She may not have that much time," said Trapper sadly. As much as it hurt, he continued, "I don't know if sacrificing all these lives…Aggie's life…is worth one woman's life."

"Trapper," said Delgado, moving a hand to Trapper's shoulder, "we haven't lost anyone yet, and with you to care for her, there's an excellent chance Aggie will pull through. Albert wouldn't have started all of this if he hadn't trusted us to get out with everyone." Wearing a rather cocky smile and shrugging, Delgado said, "We wouldn't be much of an extraction team if we had to replace people all the time, would we?"

Pauley stuck his head in the door of the tiny inner cabin that had been transformed into a something similar to a small emergency room. "Out of the way, guys. We're bringing in the injured."

Once in place, Leah and Aggie lay on cots on opposite walls. The equipment for each one was at the head of their cots, other medical equipment and supplies was stacked under and at the foot of their cots, and there was just enough space between them in the center of the room for two people to squeeze by each other.

While two men were bringing in the patients and the medical equipment, the other two were bringing in ordinance and arranging it around the boat. Each of them would be dressed in the typical green trousers similar to what the Libyan guard wore and were either shirtless or wearing an untucked shirt matching the trousers.

The boat became quiet as they waited for the signal to leave the cover of the catamaran. "Trapper?" called Leah. Moving to her side from the doorway, he took her hand. "What's happening?" she asked softly.

Bending down over her, he moved the back of a finger down her the side of her face, and across her jaw line. "We're waiting on word to leave. We're going to Turkey, and from there, Albert will be flying us home."

She closed her eyes and smiled. "Home? Really?"

Answering her smile with a chuckle, he said, "I'm not sure where, exactly, we'll be taken."

"Where is Mark?"

Trapper thought for a moment. He hadn't seen Mark since he'd helped him get Leah out of the building. "I don't know. He wasn't on the truck with us. He must have been in one of the other trucks. He's probably still on the catamaran."

She nodded. At the moment, there was nothing she could do about Mark. "We're going to one of Albert's homes, I can assure you. And we won't be coming back out until a story is in place." Her brows furrowed. "But how are we going to get out of port without being captured? Surely Gaddafi's men will be everywhere."

Trapper heard the signal to leave, and gently reached across Leah to make sure the belt holding her to the cot was secure. "We'll talk about it later. For the time being, I need you to lie still and keep quiet. We're leaving any minute now."

Drawing a sudden breath, Leah asked, "Where will you be?" The fright on her face brought him back over her. "I'll be in the room here with you and Aggie as will Gonzo and Ernie. We all have to be quiet so anyone who questions the boat won't notice us."

Two high-sided fishing boats moved slowly around the cat which sat even higher in the water. When the first boat on either side passed starboard, the smaller fishing boat slowly floated from beneath the cat and was completely hidden by the boats around it. By the time the back two boats were clear of the catamaran, no one could have noticed the smaller boat at all. Now with five boats, the grouping continued to move to the far side of the port, and when one of the men on the Libyan boat pointed in their direction, the catamaran moved slowly at first, but picking up speed, it rose on the water and began to glide at full speed out of port, sending smaller vessels off course from their docks. The Libyan ships turned and followed as well as the US vessels, and soon it looked like a race had begun out of port.

The fishing boats continued down the coast beyond the port, and when the rough water behind the military boats was just a speck on the horizon, Delgado waved to the fishermen, then sent the small boat full speed toward Derna.

There was nothing to do in the small cabin, but wait. Gonzo, Ernie and Trapper all occasionally rose to check both patients. Trapper stayed at the door near Leah's side of the cabin looking out and frequently looking back at Leah. He jumped when a face appeared above him.

Delgado looked down off the helm above the cabin. "Everyone stay down. Company's coming."

Gonzo, Ernie and Trapper ducked into the small aisle in the middle of the two cots when they heard gunshots. Before they had time to think about what to do with Aggie and Leah, Pop swung into the cabin from above, and taking weapons passed down from the helm, he passed them out to the three medical people. "You all know how to use these. Hopefully, you won't have to if Albert's air cover gets here, but remember your training and be prepared." Lastly, he passed a grenade launcher to Ernie as he grinned at Gonzo and Trapper. "I hope you don't have to use this, Ernie, but if you do, don't let them live it down," he said, nodding toward Trapper and Gonzo. Laughing, he climbed back up to the helm.

Gonzo and Trapper looked at each other, and then at Ernie, who smiled. "Out of my way, doctors. Let the nurse do her job," she said, crouching at the doorway with the grenade launcher ready.

There was one small military ship heading for them, but another was coming up fast behind it. Shots continued to hit the fishing boat sporadically. It seemed the shooter was trying to disable the boat rather than hit anyone on it. Still, Delgado couldn't let that happen.

"Alpha One to Alpha Air, come in," said Pauley into the radio microphone. He received a response, more static than voice, but he recognized the correct confirmation. "They can't be more than a few minutes away. Is this all this boat's got?"

Delgado yelled back, "Yes, if we don't want to blow the engine and become a sitting duck." Speaking to Pop by his side, he said, "If we fire on them, maybe they'll pull back to the let the other ship catch up. That could buy us some time."

"Yeah," answered Pop, "but if the air support doesn't get here before they catch up, we're toast. With both of them coming down on us, they have double the fire power." A smile stole over his lips. "Unless…" He disappeared back down the outside of the cabin. "Ernie, how about some target practice."

"From where?" she asked.

"From right where you are. I'm going to stand in front of you until you get your bearings on that ship so they don't easily see the launcher. When you're ready, I'll move out of your way." Grabbing her chin, roughly at first, but then softening his hold, he said, "You cannot hesitate. The minute I get out of the way, you have to let it go. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure I want to blow up a ship full of people," she snapped back.

"They'll jump overboard when they see it coming. And that will buy us the time we need for air support to arrive. Once that happens we're home free."

Ernie looked nervously back at Trapper and Gonzo who both nodded. "You can do this, Ernie. It's almost the same as the bazooka you used in Korea," said Trapper. He wrinkled his nose and gave a quick nod. "Remember?"

"Why can't one of your men do it?" she asked.

Because they've already been seen, and they won't be able to hide it," said Pop. "The Libyans don't know you're standing in this doorway."

Pop stood back against the rail of the boat and turned to face the oncoming ship while Ernie stood behind him, sighting the ship over his shoulder. "Move," she yelled. When Pop moved, she let the grenade go, and everyone on the ship, including Gonzo and Trapper, who had crowded the door, watched as if it sailed across the water in slow motion. Before it arrived on the Libyan vessel, men were jumping over the sides. Ernie's aim had been true, and when it hit the boat, the helm exploded. They all watched as Frazier took the fishing boat away at full speed, and in another few minutes, they watched the ship explode. The second ship stopped to take on the crew in the water, and by that time, there were yips and howls from the fishing boat as two helicopters flew over them toward the Libyan ships.

Pop and Delgado came back down to the cabin to collect the weapons. Pop put a hand on Ernie's opposite shoulder. "You did real good, Ernie."

"How did you know I would hit that ship?" she asked.

"Because in my experience, no matter the weapon, a woman's first aimed shot is always dead on," explained Pop. "After that first shot, you all anticipate the recoil."

Trapper quietly laid his hand on Leah's forehead.

Opening her eyes and looking up into his, she asked, "Is it over?"

"Almost. I still have to take care of you and Aggie, but I can't do that until we get you safely to Turkey," he said. "But the Libyans can't hurt you now."

Her eyes teared at the thought that she had actually gotten out after she had resigned herself to sure death…or torture. When her hands moved to her mouth, and she began to sob, Trapper lifted her into his arms and sat down on the cot, holding her and letting her cry. She deserved a good cry.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

When the boat docked in port at Anatalya, Turkey, air transport was waiting to fly Leah and Aggie, and Trapper's medical team to a hospital in Istanbul.

They met Albert on the helipad along with representatives of the hospital. "Dr. John McIntyre, this is Mr. Akbatu Yimaz, the hospital administrator, and this," said Albert, turning to the other man, is their Chief of Surgery, Dr. Baran Celik."

Dr. Celik stepped forward offering his hands. "Dr. McIntyre, it is a pleasure," he said in a heavy Turkish accent. "We have studied some of your own procedures and use them here at our hospital. My staff will be most anxious to assist you."

Trapper slightly bowed. "Thank you, Dr. Celik. I have with me my assistant surgeon, Dr. Alonzo Gates, and my scrub nurse, Mrs. Ernestine Shoop."

Dr. Celik's smile slowly faded. "I had thought some of my staff would be assisting you."

Moving his hand to Dr. Celik's shoulder, Trapper turned with him toward the helicopter. "I can assure you, Dr. Celik. I would be grateful for your help and that of your staff. What we have is a woman, late thirties, who is a heart recipient and has been put through…ah…"

"Hell, Dr. McIntyre?" said Celik. "I assure you, we have no love for Muammar Gaddafi. And your Mr. Schaefer has told us what has happened. He has given us Miss Haverty's medical file."

"Yes, but what you don't know is that we have a young woman with us who's been shot. I've repaired a nicked artery on the way here, but there's some renal damage that must be repaired soon or she'll lose the kidney. She's the immediate concern."

"Commendable, Doctor," said Celik. "I understand you were to marry Miss Haverty before she disappeared."

Trapper bowed his head. "Yes, I was…I am. But she's stable. Miss…" Trapper thought for a moment. In all this time, he'd never heard Aggie's last name. "The other young lady is critical. Miss Haverty has been in AFib, and we believe she still is. Because of the condition…or possible condition of her heart, I don't want to use a defibrillator. I'd rather perform a catheter ablation. I think it would be safer."

Once they reached the chopper, Trapper leaned forward a bit inside the door. "This is Miss Haverty, and this is Aggie…" he looked back at Albert who had followed them.

"Martin, Trapper. Her last name is Martin."

Trapper stood up straight. "Dr. Celik, this young lady saved our lives almost at the expense of her own. Her surgery will be first. After that, I will assist Dr. Gates, who is Leah's…excuse me, Miss Haverty's doctor and a fine cardiothoracic surgeon himself. Once she's recovered from that, I'd appreciate if your staff could run the usual tests on her heart muscle to determine if there's damage there we don't know about. A cocktail of dangerous drugs was used on her to make us think she was dead. I need to make sure that or the stress she's been under hasn't damaged the heart. It was perfectly healthy when this nightmare started."

Dr. Celik smiled. "I understand completely, Dr. McIntyre. My staff will take them to their rooms, and then set up the surgery schedule. We also have rooms for you and your staff in the hotel across the street from the hospital."

"If you don't mind," said Trapper, "I would like a cot in Miss Haverty's room." When Dr. Celik frowned, Trapper explained, "I was in the process of burying a woman I thought was my fiancé. I thought I'd lost her. I won't be leaving her side."

Albert stayed out of Trapper's way as they followed the gurneys carrying the two women into the hospital and all the way up to their rooms. "Trapper, I will need to discuss some things with you before we get back to the states, but I will wait until both Leah and Aggie are out of the woods. There are going to be some problems we'll have to work around."

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"What kind of problems are we dealing with?" said Trapper as he scrubbed for Aggie's surgery.

"Leah got into the DOD. Even though she didn't get into any classified areas, the fact that she got in is problematic. And there's your involvement. The government would like to see your medical license revoked."

Holding his wet hands up, Trapper turned to face Albert and smiled. "I'm betting you have countermeasures."

Albert grinned widely. "I do. I don't want you to worry, but we are going to have to rehearse, if you know what I mean."

Chuckling, Trapper nodded as he entered the operating room where Aggie waited on the table. Dr. Celik was there sitting behind her head. "Dr. Celik, you're my anesthesiologist?"

"I am," the doctor replied. "Unless, of course, you have trepidations."

Trapper raised his brows. "Nope," he said. "What are her vitals?"

"Holding steady at 100 over 60. Healthy woman," said Dr. Celik. "That is working in her favor."

"I would agree," said Trapper. "He looked across the table. Dr. Gates, are you ready?"

He laughed. "It's been too long."

Smiling, Trapper turned to Ernie. "You?"

"Well, I've only had one surgery in the last few days. I think I could use the practice," she said with a smirk. "Would you like a scalpel, Doctor?"

Trapper let out a laugh that made both Gonzo and Ernie relax. It seemed their friendships were no worse for wear.

"All right. First, I'm going to take a look at my handiwork from the back of the truck. If it's held together, I'll put in absorbable Monocryl sutures and take the Prolene out. Once that's done, we'll look at the kidney. Trapper opened the incision he had made and closed in the truck. "Suction."

Ernie moved the suction tube as close as she could get to the artery Trapper had previously repaired.

"It's holding. Monocryl on a 5-0. I'll have to go smaller the second time."

Ernie passed the needle and thread, and once the sutures were in, he held the needle up. His eyes moved to Gonzo's. "Gonzo, cut."

"Gonzo, sit. Gonzo, roll over," replied Gonzo, drawing a chuckle from Trapper.

"You get to give the orders on the next one," said Trapper.

After the thread was cut, he held his hand out to Ernie. "Ernie, scissors, and then the suture forceps."

"If you say, 'please'," she said with a gleam in her eye. When he raised his brows, she placed the scissors in his hand with slight whack and a smirk, eliciting a wink from Trapper.

"All right," he said passing the forceps back, let's move on to the kidney. "Suction, please. Gonzo, tissue retractors."

As Gonzo attached the tissue retractor, both men leaned over the incision and looked at the kidney. "Doesn't look that bad," said Gonzo.

Moving two fingers underneath the lower part of the kidney, Trapper said, "Before we celebrate, let's take a look at the other side."

"That's a little worse, but still not bad. But do you see what I see?" asked Gonzo.

"Uh huh," said Trapper in a tone both Ernie and Gonzo knew was uncertain. "Forceps," he said, holding out his hand. "Suction, right here." Reaching in with the forceps, he grabbed hold of the brass shard that had damaged the kidney and extracted it.

"I thought the bullet went through, Trapper," said Ernie. "You repaired the exit point."

"Most of the bullet went through. Not this shard," said Trapper, holding up the piece of brass. "The bullet was one of those that opens up as it enters the body, but it looks like it was defective. This appears to be the only piece," he said, looking around the kidney. "She's lucky. If that bullet had fully opened, I don't know that we could have saved her in the back of that truck." The piece of metal tinkled in the stainless steel basin Ernie was holding. "What do you think, Gonzo?"

Studying the kidney as Trapper carefully turned it, Gonzo looked up. "Partial nephrectomy."

"All right," said Trapper. "Why?"

"Because the damage only represents about twenty percent of the tissue. No need for Aggie to lose the entire kidney," said Gonzo.

The corner of Trapper's mouth turned up. "You read the renal journal I gave you after all, didn't you?"

Gonzo looked away trying his best not to smile.

"Proceed, Dr. Gates," said Trapper. "Your first partial nephrectomy."

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Gonzo pulled the cap off his head as he and Trapper pushed through the doors of the surgery. There waiting were all of them…Delgado, Frazier, Pop, Pauley with Albert in the lead.

"Aggie is one strong girl," said Trapper, shaking Albert's hand. "We were able to do a partial nephrectomy. She still has her right kidney, but with a small chunk missing."

"She can live with part of a kidney?" asked Pop.

"Well, she has another kidney. She could have lived quite well if we had to take the right one out, but there's no reason to take out undamaged tissue. It will still function. Now, she's not going to come to until late tonight, and then I'll need to see her again before she has any visitors. So get some rest," said Trapper, smiling. He had turned away, but stopped and turned back when he heard the celebration start. "She's not going to be up to any shenanigans for a while. Be quiet when you see her."

Dr. Celik ran down the hall after Gonzo and Trapper. "Excuse me, Dr. McIntyre." Holding out his hand, he said, "You and your team have worked together a long time, yes?"

"We have," answered Trapper.

"It was a pleasure to watch, Doctor. I am hoping that the hospital can arrange for some of our young staff to come to your hospital in America. Mr. Schaefer tells me it is a teaching hospital."

"Well, we're not quite yet, but that is the plan," said Trapper with his arms crossed, "To be truthful, I'm not sure I have a job waiting for me. I've been away for a while."

Confused, Dr. Celik said, "Oh, but Mr. Shaefer inferred that your job awaits you. You did not know this?"

Trapper lowered his eyes, folded his lips and nodded. Before he spoke, he smiled. "No. No, I didn't."

"We have Miss Haverty scheduled for the catheter ablation in the morning. Is that satisfactory, Dr. Gates?" asked Celik, turning to Gonzo.

Gonzo's brows furrowed as he looked at Trapper. "Oh. Well, I didn't know I was doing it."

"Dr. Celik, I look forward to seeing you in the morning," said Trapper with a slight bow. When he turned, Gonzo chased after him.

"Uh, Trapper?"

"You are her doctor, aren't you?" asked Trapper, staying in stride. "Most hospital boards frown on husbands operating on their wives."

"You're not married," said Gonzo, smiling.

"No, not yet. Check on our patient in about an hour. If you need me, I'll be in Miss Haverty's room."


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter Forty**

Trapper stuck his head in the door rather than just bursting in. He didn't want to wake her if she was already sleeping. Instead, he found her sitting up, eating what he assumed was Jello.

"I thought you didn't like Jello," he said as he leaned over the bed to kiss her. He licked his lips and laughed. "Tapioca pudding?"

"I had to beg for it," said Leah. "I hate Jello, especially when it gets rubbery around the edges."

"How do you feel?" he asked, sitting on the side of her bed.

"Are you asking as my doctor or as my…" Placing the small bowl of tapioca on the bed tray, she lowered her head. "What are we now, Trapper?"

"Why do we have to be anything different?" he asked.

Leah had been in government work long enough to know that what they had…what she wanted now more than anything…couldn't be. "Trapper, the CIA or the NSA…whoever they are, isn't just going to welcome me back on US soil. They believe I know too much. They think of me as a threat to US security. And if someone like Doug Manning can make off with me…and almost get away with it, anyone with half a brain can."

"I was under the impression Albert was going to take care of that problem," he said, his brows furrowed now, his hand taking hers and covering it in both of his.

She smiled briefly. "Albert can do a great deal. But I'm afraid this might be out of his reach."

"Why don't you give him a chance? He's done well for you so far," Trapper said, managing a smile. When she looked away, he added, "You're having a procedure tomorrow to correct your AFib. I don't want you thinking about this. You need to be able to relax when we start."

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and faced him with a smile. "You're right. No point worrying about something I can't do anything about." She smirked when he rolled his eyes, then poked him in the chest. "Tell me about this procedure you're doing to me?"

"I'm not doing it to you. Gonzo is. But I'll be right there with him."

"Why aren't you doing it?"

He folded his lips. "Because Gonzo is your doctor. He's always been your doctor, and there's no reason to change now."

She only nodded. She knew why he didn't take that responsibility now. She also knew there was a better than good chance his hope…his perfect dream was no longer possible. "Please, tell me."

"Do you know what AFib is?" he asked. She shook her head. "Your heartbeat is regulated by tiny electrical charges in the cells of your heart. An irregular beat is caused when damaged cells release extra impulses." He took her hands again. "You'll be under general anesthesia. Gonzo will put a catheter into a vein right here," he said, gently touching her neck. "He'll be watching on a screen as he moves it down that vein and into your heart where he'll apply radiofrequency energy…like heat…which will cause the damaged cells to die and stop conducting those extra impulses."

Her jaw dropped as her eyes widened. "He's going to kill the cells in my heart. Trapper…my heart is…it's…"

Chuckling, he asked, "It's what?" She scowled. "Leah, your heart muscle has always been strong. If it wasn't you wouldn't have survived the aneurism or the surgery to repair it. But Sweetheart, what we don't know is if there is damage from the cocktail Doug gave you or the stress you've been dealing with lately. We could just apply the defibrillator paddles and give you a good shock, but I don't want to take that chance until we know what condition your heart's in." He gave her a moment to let that sink in. "So even after this procedure, you'll still have to relax and rest until we can get you back home and take a look." Her sad look confused him, but before he could pursue it, the door opened with a loud clatter.

"Dr. McIntyre? Are you Dr. McIntyre?" asked a man in a blue hospital uniform.

Trapper patted Leah's hand and stood. "Yes, I'm Dr. McIntyre."

"I have your cot, Sir, if you would allow me to set it up for you."

"Of course," said Trapper. "Thank you."

At another knock, Trapper turned back to the door. "Come in. Albert," he said, offering his hand.

"Trapper I wanted to thank you for the work you did on Aggie. You probably saved her from early retirement, though she'll probably be on light duty from now on."

"Saved her?" said Trapper, chuckling. "Why would she want to be saved from retirement?"

"You have to understand the type that does what Aggie and the other's do. They're worst nightmare is that they'll sustain an injury that won't allow them to go on operations any longer. They don't live for the income. They live for the thrill of the job."

"Thrill?" said Leah. "Did you just say thrill?"

Laughing, Albert said, "That's what it is for their personality type. That's why they keep doing it," he said, kissing her hand. "Trapper, can I speak with you for a moment…outside?" Trapper followed him into the hospital hall and leaned against wall with his arms crossed. "You have to do the procedure tonight…as soon as possible." Trapper fixed his stare on Albert's eyes. "The NSA agents are on their way. We have to leave as soon as she can be ready."

"Don't they have to get permission from Turkey to come in here?" asked Trapper, his brows furrowed in anger.

"That is the proper procedure, but we're talking about the NSA. They don't ask permission. They pretty much do what they want. And right now, what they want is Leah."

Trapper exhaled and rubbed his temple. "I'll gather Gonzo and Ernie and get it done. How much time do I have?"

"It would be better if we could leave within the hour. Any longer than that, the risk rises. Oh, and one more thing, Trapper, if it comes up. I'll leave it to you to decide to tell her. They took Mark Hansen off the catamaran. He's in their custody."

Trapper closed his eyes. He didn't care that Mark had been taken. But Leah would. "I'm not asking for myself, but if she does, can you get him back?"

Studying Trapper for a moment before he answered, Albert said, "Probably. By the same means I'll get them to walk away from Leah and the rest of you. I don't want to do that…but I would do it for her."

Explaining the urgency to Leah was easy. And so far, she hadn't asked about Mark, and Trapper wasn't going to offer any information. Leaving her with Albert, he left to get Gonzo and Ernie ready for the procedure and to find Dr. Celik. The Chief of Surgery would have to approve and be present during the ablation. The ablation itself would take at least thirty minutes. They would be cutting it close.

"Ernie, go ahead and sedate her now. I don't think I'll have trouble with Dr. Celik, and her sedation will allow us to start more quickly. Gonzo go over her scans. You won't have time to guess at anything."

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Dr. Celik sat behind Leah's head again, monitoring her vitals. "Dr. McIntyre, I want to warn you. Administrator Yimaz has been apprised of the situation. If the NSA comes in with officials from the Turkish government, he will have to comply." He glanced up with a slight smile. "Though he will do his best to delay their arrival in the surgical suite…which, by the way, has a separate corridor to the helipad."

Trapper smiled, and as his smile faded at the possibility he'd lose Leah again, he nodded. "Gonzo, let's begin."

Trapper stood behind Gonzo looking over his shoulder as Gonzo poked a small hole into a vein in Leah's neck. Ernie was standing on the other side of Leah's head, dabbing the blood that ran away from the hole.

"Inserting the catheters now," said Gonzo quietly. "And there it is, he said, watching the screen once the tiny tube was inside the vein. In only a few minutes, he announced they were inside the heart.

"Activating the second catheter," said Trapper as he watched the screen. "And there are the damaged cells. See the darker color?" he said. The cells were certainly microscopic, but the second catheter served as a microscope and a light, so Gonzo would be able to apply the first catheter carrying the radiofrequency to the exact location of the damaged cells.

"Here we go," said Gonzo. "Pull back the first catheter so we can take a look at those cells." Both men leaned closer to the screen. "There, you see, Trapper," said Gonzo. "I'd say those cells are text book dead."

"Let's check her rhythm," said Trapper, moving over to the EKG machine and watching the tape as it belched out. "Beautiful," he said with a smile. "Rhythm is normal. Get those catheters out, bandage her neck, and let's get her out of here."

Aggie had been moved back into the surgical suite in anticipation of a quick exit. Now, Trapper, Gonzo, Ernie, Albert and Dr. Celik were pushing gurneys, an IV pole and a heart monitor down the hall. Dr. Celik had already packed Trapper's medical bag with all the medicine and bandages he might need while the women were in transit.

"Dr. Celik, excuse me," said a nurse at the nurse's station.

"Go! Take a right at the end of the hall, then the elevator up to the helipad," he said before he turned back to the nurse.

"Mr. Yamiz asked me to tell you they are on their way, and they are in a hurry."

"When they arrive, tell them you have not seen any of us," Celik said, looking her in the eye. "Don't worry," he said softening. "You will not be in trouble." He left the hall through a door behind the nurse's station and emerged in the back hallway just as the elevator doors closed. Without hesitation, he opened the door to the stairwell, and ran up the steps.

As the blades whipped the air around them, Trapper and Gonzo lifted the gurney holding Aggie to the edge of the floor of the helicopter. Gonzo climbed in and guided the gurney to the middle. Next, Leah was loaded with the help of Dr. Celik, followed by Ernie, Albert and finally Trapper, who hesitated for a moment at the sound of his name shouted behind him. He looked over his shoulder, then grabbed the handle above the door. "Go!" he yelled at the pilot, who immediately lifted the helicopter off the pad just out of reach of the NSA agent who had made it to the helipad seconds too late.

Raising his hand to wave to Dr. Celik, Trapper watched as the NSA agent grew smaller and smaller the higher the helicopter climbed. It was a face he would never forget, handsome, furious and talking on a walkie-talkie. "Albert, he's talking to someone," Trapper yelled over the noise of the chopper.

"He's sending agents to the airport. After all, as far as they know, that's the only place a plane big enough to make it to the US could take off," shouted Albert.

Ernie scoffed. "As far as they know?"

Albert smiled. "We have friends waiting for us at my plane in a field in the opposite direction. We'll head toward the airport long enough for the NSA to be convinced that's where we're going, and then we'll make a wide loop…wide enough that they can't see when we head in the opposite direction. But you'll all have to brace yourselves. We'll be landing in a field that's about to be planted with wheat."

"They'll be monitoring all the major US airports," yelled Gonzo. "So where are we going?"

Trapper laughed. "We're not going to the US. My guess is Canada."

Nodding, Albert said, "First stop is Quebec City. Once we refuel, we'll be stopping in Calgary, and from there, Snowater."

"Never heard of it," said Gonzo as he watched out the window.

"No reason you should have," replied Albert. "It's a vacation home…secluded. No roads, no telephones, but we do have a Ham radio."


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter Forty-One**

Trapper must have checked Aggie's pulse twenty times before he noticed a field with what he thought was a medium-sized jet sitting at one end. It was hard to tell just how big the plane was from that high up. Leah was still unconscious from the anesthesia she'd been given. He couldn't reach her from where he was sitting, but made sure Gonzo monitored her as well. He didn't like helicopters. They reminded him of Korea. As he sat with nothing else to do, he imagined the face of the NSA agent that almost made it to the chopper appearing underneath them and taking aim with a grenade launcher to shoot them out of the air. The face changed to a Vietnamese guerilla with a bazooka who had just released a high-explosive anti-tank rocket at them. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook the memory away, or so he tried. The residual feelings were still there and applied here. Shortly before Trapper was discharged, Colonel Henry Blake had left for home, but never made it. Trapper almost didn't. It was close enough that he had time to wonder what the future would have held for him. Now, the closer he got to home, the more he worried that something would go wrong and rob him of what he imagined the remainder of his life could be. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Trapper, as soon as we can get them on the plane, we have to leave," yelled Albert over the loud reverberation of the blades. "Frazier's on his way to the plane. He says NSA agents are about fifteen minutes behind him."

"How did they find out where we were going?" Trapper yelled back.

"I don't know, but I'm sure Frazier will. It was his job to make sure we were in the clear."

Trapper simply nodded. Talking was too difficult, and he didn't want the others to know there could be trouble. He got Gonzo's attention. "Make sure she's ready to move the minute we touchdown."

Seeing the worry on Trapper's face, Gonzo nodded without remark.

In another five minutes the helicopter bounced a tiny bit as it landed on the newly turned soil. Trapper slid open the door and jumped out, taking the end of Leah's cot. "Let's go!" he yelled at Gonzo.

Gonzo's eyes met Trapper's, and he instantly knew all was not well.

Two more men ran to the helicopter. As they passed, Trapper recognized them as Eliseo Delgado and the man he knew only as Pop. He relaxed a bit, knowing the two men would break their necks to ensure the safety of Aggie and everyone else. They finished loading the plane at the same time Frazier's Jeep slid to a halt next to the plane. The engines had already been started.

Barely in the door of the plane, Frazier yelled, "Go!" before he had even pulled the door closed.

Albert grabbed his arm. "How much time do we have?"

"I was able to buy us a little more," said Frazier. "If the tires don't get stuck in this field, we should be away before they get here."

Albert allowed himself a calming breath. "How did they find us?"

"The guy who drove out here to fuel the plane. They paid him a hundred bucks, and he sang like a bird." When the plane bounced, Frazier took Albert's arm and guided him to a chair. "This isn't going to be a smooth take-off. Belt up," he said as he left Albert and made his way to the cockpit.

Trapper took the seat next to Leah where her cot lay strapped to a built-in couch. He watched out the window as the drama played out. It was in the gloaming, the sun had just set, but there was still enough light to see. The bumping abruptly stopped, and the ground slowly fell away. The plane almost immediately banked. Trapper could see headlights on the ground moving onto the field. He smiled and thought to himself, "Missed again." After checking Leah's pulse, Trapper kissed her hand and laid it down next to her. He leaned back and closed his eyes, wondering how the NSA would find them next.

Albert brought him a drink. "We'll have dinner in just a little while."

Nodding, Trapper said, "They'll track us on radar."

"They will for a while," said Albert, smiling. "Until we drop below radar. They'll scramble fighters to find us, but they won't because we're not going to Montreal as they expect nor will we be entering Canada from the direction they expect. Their fighters would be warned off anyway. Though Canada and the US are relatively close allies, Canada does not appreciate unplanned military incursions." At Trapper's wary look, Albert smiled and touched Trapper's shoulder. "They can't follow us into Canada if they can't tell Canada where we are. Think about it. There's so much wide open space in Canada, the ludicrousness of them being able to find us is not lost on Canada. By the time they figure it out, we'll be at Snowater, lost to them as long as we want to remain so."

Their flight path took them north over the Labrador Sea, then south over Newfoundland, and finally to Quebec City, where their short time there was uneventful. They landed on a little used runway where a fuel truck waited to fill their tanks and send them on their way. The landing in Calgary went much the same, except that they were loaded into two private helicopters. The transfer took only ten minutes.

Aggie was kept sedated, but Leah came to for a few short minutes, long enough to feel Trapper's hand wrapped around hers. "We're almost there, my love," whispered Trapper. "But you should rest until we get to Snowater." She smiled as he injected her with a sedative, then watched her smile fade as she drifted off to sleep.

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Trapper pulled his robe tightly around him as he stood out on a deck with a view of snow-covered mountains, evergreen trees with their fingers of foliage weighted down with fresh snow, and the air smelling crisp and clean. His time in Libya made him thankful for winter. Living in San Francisco was existence without the blistering heat of Libya…or even Sacramento only two hours away. On the other hand, living in San Francisco was the absence of snow, mountains and evergreen trees of any size, though some of the tallest trees in the world were only a few hours away, and snow, just a little further than that. The scenery here at Snowater was among some of the most beautiful he'd ever seen. He was at peace, and he knew that soon, Leah would be able to stand at his side. He wondered if she could live the rest of her life in a place like this or if there was still that need in her to ride that leading edge of technology.

"Trapper?"

Trapper grinned before he hurried back into the well-appointed bedroom. Leah was laying on one side of the king-sized bed they had shared the night before. Of course, Leah had no idea. The sedative Trapper had given her kept her unconscious until now at five in the morning. Trapper sat down next to her, moving his fingers to her neck and looking at his watch.

"Where are we?"

"Snowater."

"And where is that?"

"Near Calgary."

"How's my pulse?"

"Normal."

With that last answer, the conversation stopped. Truthfully, Leah didn't know what to say. Trapper was at a loss as well.

"Can I get up?" Leah finally asked.

"That depends on why you want to get up?"

Leah laughed. "Really? Is this how it's going to be?" She looked at him wide-eyed, but all he could do was grin. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Well, then yes, you should get up, because there are no bedpans here."

"I wouldn't use a bedpan in front of you anyway, " she said, scoffing as she slowly turned and sat up on the side of the bed. Swaying a bit, she asked, "What did you give me?"

"Valium. It's strong, but it was the only thing left in my medical kit," said Trapper as he hurried over to help her stand. "I'll help you to the bathroom."

"Then what?"

"Then we take a walk. Albert equipped this place with all the medical supplies we had on the boat. Delgado and his men had it all loaded on the plane long before we got there, and now it's here. So Gonzo and I are going to run some tests on your heart."

"And if I don't have the tests?"

Trapper had been smiling, but instantly lost his smile. "Oh no. We are not stepping back in time."

Stopping at the bathroom door, she said, "Excuse me," when she stepped inside and closed the door.

"Leah, I've seen you sit on a toilet." He heard a flush just before Leah stepped back into the bedroom.

She walked back to the bed, climbed in and pulled the covers over her. "Trapper, you'll go back to your life in San Francisco. I can't go back with you."

"Albert said he'd take care of it," said Trapper, standing at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips.

"Albert can't just take care of a perceived breach of the DOD computer systems even if it never happened. Regardless of that fact, just the threat makes me a wild card in their eyes. Did you really think it would be that easy?"

"Then I won't go back," he said quietly.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Trapper answered it and motioned for Albert to enter the bedroom.

Based on the look on Trappers face, Albert guessed what they had been discussing. He addressed Leah. "I assume you've told him how bad you've been."

"Albert, I haven't been that bad. I didn't get in. Still, I'm not sure Trapper knows exactly what all of it means yet," she said, closing her eyes and turning away.

"Well, Trapper, let me explain it. They want her head on a silver platter, and if they get their hands on her, she'll could be whisked away to a government detention center where she'll stay until she's old and gray…or until she dies, whichever comes first. At least, that will be their first reaction."

Sitting on the side of the bed, Trapper rubbed his hand over his mouth while glaring at Albert. "You said you could handle it."

"I'll have to assert their error before they'll listen, and then, there is the perceived threat Leah represents. It's not going to be a quick process. She's safe here for a while, and before I tackle her problem, I have to take care of you and Ernie and Gonzo."

"You don't have to take care of me. I'm fine staying here with Leah," said Trapper.

"I'm not fine with it," said Leah. "I'm not going to be the reason you leave what you love. You're not ready to retire to be a…" She looked sadly at Albert. "Forgive me, Albert, but it is what it is." Turning back to Trapper, she finished. "To be a prisoner here. I can't leave until Albert has a deal or until they find out where's he's keeping me."

Trapper stood with his hands at his side and a smile on his lips. "If you're not going to be the reason to leave what I love, then…don't."

Closing her eyes, Leah let her head fall back. "Surgery, Trapper. I'm talking about surgery." She looked fiercely at him. "And I'm not the one who's going to end it for you. You need to let Albert do whatever he can to get you back to San Francisco Memorial. Because you can't…do…anything for me."

"I want both of you to stop," said Albert with a bite in his voice. "Neither of you are lost. You just got here last night. Now Leah, you will go down to the basement and let Trapper and Gonzo check your heart. And then, if your doctor says it's all right, you will have breakfast. It's time to build your strength back up. In the next few days, I'm going to come up with their stories," he said, pointing to Trapper, "and get everything in place to corroborate them." Once they're back where they belong, I'll work on getting you off the hook."

Leah got up from the bed and pulled a robe on that had been laid out for her. As she tied the sash while walking to the door, she said, "Trapper's your problem, Albert. Not me."


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter Forty-Two**

Albert and Trapper watched Leah walk out the door and close it behind her. "It's good she's out of the room," said Albert. "I need you to think about what I'm about to tell you without the distraction."

Trapper crossed his arms. "And what would that be?"

"You have to go back, Trapper. If you don't go back, I'll have to dig you out of a bigger hole. With both of you involved, the Feds'll start using the word conspiracy. You helped the Libyan people. The world knows the Libyans have had sanctions against them, have been bombed…the Libyan people have suffered as a result. Getting you back into your life will be easy with what the Feds know. Anymore, and getting you back will be iffy."

"Albert, what you don't understand is that I don't need to go back. I'm happy to disappear with her."

Looking away, Albert exhaled. "Trapper, you know her well enough to know she'll insist on a deal. She doesn't want to disappear. She doesn't want to live in hiding. She'll want it done and over with. You need to be waiting for her in the real world."

Trapper let his hands drop to his sides. "I lost her once. I'm not going to lose her again."

Chuckling, Albert said, "You aren't going to lose her unless she goes back to San Francisco, and you're not there. Then we'll all lose her. And don't forget, she is a heart recipient. The prospects of her living a long life are pretty slim."

Trapper turned to the view through the sliding glass doors. He wasn't prepared to talk about what lengths he would take to keep her alive. "How long will it take?"

"I'm betting no more than a year."

Rubbing his forehead with his fingers, Trapper clenched his jaw. Could he handle another twelve months away from her without knowing where she was…how she was?

Standing next to Trapper, Albert moved a hand to his shoulder. "Why don't you go make sure she's healthy. We still have to come up with the plans. You have time to let this sink in."

Trapper nodded as he looked down at the floor. "If I can't be here to take care of her, I want to know who's going to do that." Without saying anything else, he left the room, heading for the medical suite.

Leah was already there laying on an exam table with leads attached to her chest. She watched nervously as Gonzo read the tape from the EKG machine, his brow furrowed the entire time.

Trapper noticed, too. "Gonzo? What is it?"

Without saying anything Gonzo passed the tape to Trapper, who put his glasses on to look at it from top to bottom. "How's her pulse?"

"121," said Ernie quietly. "Her pressure is 160 over 94."

"Would you two excuse us for a minute?" asked Trapper.

Gonzo nodded and escorted Ernie out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, Trapper folded the tape up and tucked it into his pocket, then leaned over Leah, the fingers of one hand moving through her short hair as his other hand reached for her hand. He kissed her, then lay his forehead on hers, and with his eyes closed, he said quietly, "I will do whatever Albert suggests. The last thing we need is for you to be upset over what I do."

"So you think the reason my heart is racing and my blood pressure is so high is because…I'm upset," she said softly.

"Maybe. Hopefully. But it could be a real problem. We won't be able to tell with the EKG unless you can relax."

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, she smiled tentatively. "I'll try." Moving her eyes to his, she asked, "Trapper, be honest with me. Do you think my heart is damaged?"

His look was one of concern, but also uncertainty. "I don't know, Sweetheart, and I'm not going to start guessing, at least not standing in the middle of all this equipment that can tell us how your heart is. Has Ernie drawn blood yet?" Leah nodded. "All right, the next thing we'll do is give you a few more minutes to relax, and then we'll repeat the EKG. We'll also get a chest x-ray to see if your heart has enlarged or if there's fluid, and then we'll do an ECHO to get a better picture of your heart. We'll also get an angiogram which will show us if there's any physical weakness or damage.

As her eyes watered, she looked away. "And what if there is?"

"Leah, look at me," said Trapper, turning her face back to his. "There was a time when you didn't care."

Fighting back her tears, she answered in a whisper, "I don't want to die, Trapper. Not when I've found something to live for."

As her tears flowed, Trapper lifted her into a sitting position and held her against him. "All the more reason for me to stay, Sweetheart. Now, instead of thinking about the worst, why don't we hope for the best."

By the time Leah's tests were done, she wasn't hungry and retired to the bedroom. Trapper stayed behind going over all her test results. According to Dr. Avery when Trapper first took over her case, she had only been taking Cyclosporine since her last check up, so not very long. There were signs of damage, but only slight. He was more worried about her elevated liver enzymes and signs of mild kidney disease not uncommon in heart transplant patients, but also possible because of the cocktail of drugs she was given. If it was the drugs, her kidney could recover in time. If not, her kidney wasn't going to get better. The liver enzymes could be easily handled. Liver tissue could heal, but kidney disease was slightly more difficult, especially considering she lost one of her kidneys in the accident that killed her family. Once the filters in the kidney die, they don't heal, and they don't grow back. As soon as Albert let him, he would be contacting a colleague to discuss the best course of action. But he certainly knew that her treatment would begin with her diet.

Still looking at the test results, Trapper heard the latch of the door click. He heard crisp footsteps on the floor, and when he heard them right next to him, he lowered the papers he was holding and looked straight ahead. "Albert, I need a consult, and I need drugs I don't have here. How do we do that?"

"How bad is she?"

Trapper rubbed his forehead with his finger tips. "She's not in bad shape considering what was done to her. But she's not as healthy as she would've been if none of this had ever happened."

"Make a list of the medications you need, and I'll arrange to get them. Give me some names for the consult, and I'll see what I can do. It may only be a phone call."

"That will do." Leaving the papers he'd been carefully reading on a table in the medical suite, Trapper stood and walked to the door. "Leah went to lie down, but she needs to eat. Would you care to join us in the kitchen?"

"I'll be in as soon as I take care of some business…maybe fifteen…twenty minutes. We do have a cook, however so all you need to do is ask, and he'll prepare whatever you wish."

Looking apologetically at Albert, Trapper said, "Leah will be on a special diet from now on, so I should probably speak to him before I discuss the test results with her." He stopped and turned back toward the cabinet that held all the medicines they had acquired throughout their journey. "I'll be adding additional blood pressure medication, not just for her heart, but to keep her kidney healthy," he said, sorting through the bottles and coming up with several. "With her kidney damaged, it will be more difficult to control."

Albert bowed his head as he furrowed his brow and clasped his hands behind his back. "She was never happy about all the pills. And prior to meeting you, she probably didn't take them correctly. You're good for her Trapper. I don't think you'll have any trouble getting her to take her medications."

Trapper studied Albert for a moment. "Tell me something. I know you told me you take care of her because of a promise you made to her husband." Shaking his head, Trapper said, "There's more. What is it?"

Albert chuckled as he pinched his nose. "Well, I already told you about my history with John Lewis. She can be abrasive because she knows her time is limited, and it frustrates her. Not because her life has been cut short, but because her _time_ has been cut short. She's helped me with projects more times than I can count. She's generous. She's sincere, especially where children are concerned. I think you saw that at the hospital…Marcus and his father, on the wharf…Carlotta and Leo…the children there...her work at the Children's Hospital at the University of California. The world is a better place for many people because of Leah Haverty, and it will be a terrible loss…" Albert turned away, but Trapper saw him raise his hand to his face. "…when it's her time to go." Without turning back, he said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do to put all the pieces of your lives back together," and with that said, Albert swiftly left.

Trapper left, too. He went straight to their bedroom, and slowly turning the door knob. Easing the door open, he peeked in and found Leah on the bed, her chest slowly rising and falling in what looked like restful sleep. Closing the door as quietly as he opened it, he emptied his pockets of the pill bottles he'd taken from the medical suite, setting each bottle gently on the night table. Before he sat down on the bed, something he was sure would wake her up, he smiled down on her. Her stillness, the serene look on her face, and the slight smile that just turned up the corners of her mouth took him back to a time when they were planning their lives together, each titillated by the other's presence, each cherishing the times they were alone. It seemed she wasn't worried about what was to come. Then again, she might think that nothing could be worse than what she'd already been through. Finally, he slowly sat on the side of the bed.

Her reaction wasn't immediate except for a slow, deep breath. When she opened her eyes, her first view was his eyes, smiling down at her. Her smile, her serenity was still there when she said, "I'm not well, am I?"

His brow furrowed even as he maintained his smile. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because, even though your eyes are smiling along with your mouth…there's something else there. Concern certainly. Even a little sadness."

He chuckled. "I'm not sad, but I am concerned. You weren't very happy when Gonzo started you on new blood pressure medication. In fact, I remember you threw the script at him before you stormed out of my office."

She drew a finger down the back of his hand resting on his leg. "So you're starting me on more blood pressure medication."

"I'm reviewing all of your medication, and…I'll be adding more to it."

Her smile faded as she held her breath. "How bad?"

"Not as bad as it could've been, and not something we can't deal with," he said, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. "Your heart has been stressed, but it's still relatively healthy considering what's been done to you. But your kidney also has some damage that puts you at stage three kidney disease."

When she closed her eyes and bit her lip, he added quickly, "Leah, people live long lives with stage three kidney disease. The key is to make life as easy on your kidney as possible, and that means you will take more blood pressure medication, and you will be on a kidney friendly diet. Your liver enzymes are elevated, but I'm going to watch them and see if they don't straighten themselves out before we add medication for that."

Running her hand back through her short hair, she said, "I have spent quite a chunk of my life organizing my medication, and now you're saying there will be more."

"You know what will happen if you don't take it all," Trapper said softly.

She exhaled and gave him a defeated smile. "It's going to happen, Trapper. Sooner now, I'm betting."

"How much?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

"How much what?"

"How much do you want to bet?" he said with his jaw crooked.

She rolled her eyes and threw the cover off, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, standing and walking away from him quicker than he thought possible. "Where are you going?"

"To look at the view you seem to enjoy so much," she said. Pushing the sliding door to one side, the briskness of the air took her breath away, but she didn't stop. She stepped outside onto the deck, and walked to the rail. "This decking is heated," she yelled back over her shoulder. Looking down at her feet, she said to herself, "How did they do that?"

Trapper appeared behind her with her robe and wrapped it around her. "Heated decking isn't going to keep the rest of you warm. Come inside and get dressed if you want to spend time out here."

"I don't want to spend time out here. This was the only place I could come to try to get away…" Her voice faded, "from you."

Trappers mouth dropped open.

Raising her hand to his mouth and covering it, she said, "Please don't take that the wrong way, Trapper. I just don't want to be the one you…have to keep covering, pulling a blanket up over my lap, and feeding and fetching and…" As she spoke, her face slowly transformed into a wet, pitiful mess as the quick breaths she was taking to stave off her tears gave into sobs.

He pulled her into a tight embrace, lifting his chin and resting it on top of her head. "You make it sound like you're going to turn into a old lady before you are an old lady. Come on. Let's go inside before you catch pneumonia." He directed her back to the bed where he moved her on to it and got her under the covers, pinning them at the side of each of her shoulders. "Now, you stay under these blankets while I go get you some tea, and then we'll talk about the test results, about your medication, your diet…and your life…with me." He leaned over her and kissed her, but still, her face showed how troubled she was. Without moving away, he looked her straight in the eye. "If you get up out of this bed before I get back, your worst nightmare will come true, only it will be because I tied you to your chair." After giving her another smack on her lips, he got up to leave, looking back one more time as he opened the door to make sure she hadn't moved before he stepped through and pulled it closed.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter Forty-Three**

Leah sat alone in the bedroom, sipping chamomile tea while Albert spoke with Trapper, Ernie and Gonzo, she assumed about the plan to get them back into San Francisco Memorial. At this point, she wasn't prepared to imagine what she would have to give up to resume her life without changing everything, so she contented herself by watching the snow fall on the other side of the glass. Running her hand over her head, she smiled. Maybe she'd keep her hair short. She actually smiled at the thought of not having to worry about it while it was short. Moving her eyes up as far as they would go, she thought, "But this is too short."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Albert sat at the kitchen table with the three people who had to go back to work…somewhere, and if everything went well, it would be San Francisco Memorial. Ernie and Gonzo would be easy. The hospital always needed doctors and nurses. Trapper's position could have been harder had his replacement not made it clear he didn't want to make a career of Chief of Surgery.

Dr. Celik and Mr. Yamiz would corroborate the story that they were doing charitable work in Turkey at the same time they were teaching the hospital staff new surgical techniques. There was no one who could place Gonzo and Ernie in Libya. Trapper was only seen by one group other than Albert's men and Gaddafi's men. Dr. Reynard would say he had only met a Dr. Robert Boudreau from Quebec. After Trapper was held in Gaddafi's compound, Reynard and his assistants left the country for Canada, so questioning them about anything that transpired would be fruitless. And no one was going to ask Gaddafi.

They would all be questioned more than once. After all, the government frowned on anyone working undercover independently either domestically or outside the country. But all they had to do was stick to their stories. Arnold had already asserted that they were on a charitable trip to Turkey, and other than that, he knew nothing, his argument that when a employee requested a personal leave of absence without pay, he didn't necessarily have to be forthcoming with the reason, especially since that employee's job was not guaranteed to be available when they returned.

Albert had already made telephone calls making sure everything else was in place. Now as he lay his folder on the kitchen table, he looked across at Trapper. "Trapper, you'll be questioned the hardest. You must remain stoic and detached in order to be believed. After all, it was common knowledge you and Leah would have been married had she not been taken. You can even go so far as to say you chose Turkey to be close and asked your friends to go with you, having heard she was taken to an unfriendly country bordering the Mediterranean Sea. If the question where you got your information comes up, you can say you got it from me, and that should end it. You were Leah's sole heir, so having a association with me is perfectly plausible. So, you all need to pack your things. You'll be going home day after tomorrow."

Gonzo and Ernie smiled, but their eyes moved to Trapper who sat quietly considering his hands clasped on his lap. "I thought I'd have more time."

"I can give you a few more days, Trapper," said Albert. "But you have to go back before I can deal with Leah's problem. I don't want you anywhere near her until her deal is made."

"And you're confident a deal will be made?" asked Trapper without looking up.

"A deal will be made. But it could take a while. They're not convinced there was no breach, so they're acting on the probability there was. It seems it took a little time for the news of Leah's faked death and kidnapping to make it up the chain. The FBI knew, but were slow to communicate it. The government wanted her at Xanda and was prepared to make her another…much larger…offer. An offer they were sure she wouldn't refuse, so they had already set her up to take over without delay. It was several weeks after she was taken that they took down her credentials. My question to them will be how she even knew she had credentials since they were never able to make the offer."

"And then?" asked Trapper.

"They'll have to think about it. And then they'll want to speak with Leah. Alone. And Leah can tell them exactly what she did to throw the Libyans off."

Cocking his head, Trapper asked, "And of her escape?"

"I'm still working on that. Gonzo, Ernie, you'll be picked up the minute you get back to your homes. You probably won't even make it in the door. Look surprised. Ask what's going on. Play the part of being shocked that you would be questioned because of a personal humanitarian trip to Turkey."

"Trapper, they won't ask you anything in the beginning. You'll be picked up at your home as well, but they won't immediately question you. They'll leave you alone in a room without food, water or a bathroom for hours. You asked Gonzo and Ernie to go to Turkey with you, that you needed some time away from San Francisco to come to terms with Leah's kidnapping. Gonzo and Ernie, Trapper arranged for your flight back to the States through me. You both left him on the tarmac in Turkey." Pointing to Gonzo and Ernie in turn, he added, "And other than seeing me at the hospital to speak with Trapper regarding Leah's estate, you don't know me."

"What about our flight from Turkey?" asked Gonzo. "They were within seconds of catching us."

"They never saw you, so they don't really know who they were after," answered Albert.

Albert passed a dossier to each one sitting at the table. "Study it tonight. This is everything we've spoken about."

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Trapper quietly opened the door to the bedroom and found Leah still sitting in the chair where he'd left her.

She was staring out the window, so absorbed in her thoughts she didn't hear him come in and close the door behind him. When he squatted next to the chair, she wasn't startled, but rather slowly turned her head toward him. She said nothing.

Taking her hand, he kissed it. "Do you want to hear?"

"No. But I suppose I should," she answered.

"I'll be leaving…going back to San Francisco in a few days. But Leah, if you don't want me to leave you here, I won't. Just tell me to stay."

She flashed a smile. "I can't. You have to go back. They need you there."

Bowing his head, Trapper pinched his lips before he nodded. "I'll start packing. Not that I have that much to pack," he chuckled.

As he stood, she grabbed his hand. "How much time do we have?"

His brow furrowed at the sadness on her face. Pulling her up out of the chair, he wrapped his arms around her, moving his hand to her hair, and raising his eyes toward the ceiling. "We have forever, my dear. We just have to be patient."

"Who's forever?"

Moving his hands to her arms, he held her in front of him. "We all have to go, Leah. The important thing is that we make the best of what we have."

"And how long do we have before you have to go?" she whispered.

"Only a few days. Albert said he can't start working on your deal until I'm gone. He has to be able to show we weren't together for any part of the last eight months. If I stay, there may not be any chance of a deal." When she closed her eyes, he added, "I thought you didn't want to live in hiding."

"I don't."

"Then we have no choice but to do what Albert says." Trapper lifted her chin with a finger. "I have to get your medications started before I leave, and I've asked to meet your new doctor."

Stepping into him, Leah moved her arms underneath his and around him. "How long?" she asked, laying her head on his chest.

"I've already given Albert the list of medications. I'll be meeting your doctor day after tomorrow, so today, and then four more days."

Squeezing her eyes shut caused a tear to roll down her cheek. "I don't know if I can go through this without you."

"Hm. I remember the Leah Haverty who marched into the hospital ready to take on the Chief of Surgery to get a computer on his desk…the unrelenting, unshakable, unstoppable Leah Haverty."

She chuckled. "I thought you didn't like her."

Relaxing his arms around her, he said, "Look at me, Leah." When she did, he continued, "What I didn't like was that you were so…unapproachable. You were hiding behind the bluster and sharpness. I wanted to see the edges soften, and I did when I watched you with the children at the Children's Hospital. I never thought I'd say this, but you need to find that woman and become her again."

"And what if she stays? What if you can't chip away the armor again?"

His eyebrow raised. "Oh, I'm not going to worry about that for even a minute," he said, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bed where he gently laid her down, and then joined her.

"I didn't know my heart was up to such things," she said, smiling.

"You're heart is fine at the moment," he said softly, settling over her and looking into her eyes. "We'll have to watch it much closer than we had been, and there are some things you won't be doing anymore."

"Like what?"

"Swimming by yourself at China Beach."

She shuddered. "I don't think I'll be swimming anywhere in the ocean by myself again."

"Leah, your heart is never going to be as good the original. Eventually, it's health will decline, and your general health will along with it. What makes it harder now to keep it going is the damage to your kidney. A damaged kidney will affect even a healthy heart."

Leah moved her hands around the back of Trapper's neck and pulled him down to her, touching his lips with hers. "Do we have to talk about this right now?" she whispered.

One corner of his mouth turned up. "We don't," he said, returning her kiss with a more lengthy one."

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"Come in," said Ernie, looking up from her packing at the tap on her bedroom door.

"You ready?" asked Gonzo.

"Well, there's not much to pack. How do you prepare for going home, only to be intercepted and kept for God only knows how long in a place that may or may not have facilities to bathe?"

Gonzo chuckled. "I don't think it's going to be that bad, Ernie."

Looking up with her brows deeply furrowed, Ernie barked, "And why don't you? We were part of a military coup in a hostile country. Do you think there's any doubt in their minds?"

"It doesn't matter," said Gonzo calmly as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Albert said they're only guessing, and if we don't give them anything, they can't do anything. Just remember your story."

"Why so nervous?" asked Trapper who had just appeared at the door. "Gonzo's right. Stick to your story, and you'll be all right," he said as he moved his arms around Ernie and gave her a tight hug. He could feel her body relax.

"You're right, I know," she said. "I supposed I'm just anxious for this to be over. Not that I wouldn't do it for you again, but…" she smiled and backed away from him. "I'm getting too old for this."

"I know how you feel," said Gonzo. "If there's one thing that will age you, it's a war, and this was no less."

Trapper became quiet and serious as he looked on at two of his best friends. "I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you for what you've done for me…us." As he drew Ernie into another hug, he held one hand out toward Gonzo and beckoned him over, hugging them both at the same time.

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At the helicopter, Albert explained, "You'll be flying back to Turkey and boarding a commercial flight back to the States. The Feds won't immediately know, but don't be surprised if they pick you up at the airport. I'm betting though, that the agents watching your house will be the first to know and will pick you up there. Study your dossiers on the flight to Turkey, and leave them on the plane when you arrive. Good luck," he said, extending his hand to Ernie first, and then to Gonzo.

Leah stood with Trapper while Albert went over their instructions, but before Gonzo and Ernie boarded the helicopter, she approached them, taking Ernie's hand in one of hers and Gonzo's in the other. She folded her lips in an attempt not to cry. "I can't thank you both enough for what you've done. If you need anything…anything at all, please let me help."

Ernie stepped into a hug and whispered in Leah's ear. "The best thing you can do for me is make him happy for as long as you can." Turning away, Ernie climbed up into the chopper.

Next, Gonzo hugged her. "You can do that for both of us. Oh, and listen to your doctor," he said as joined Ernie.

She bowed her head, sniffled and chuckled. "God speed," Leah shouted over the slowly accelerating thumping sound of the main rotors and the growing whine of the engine as Trapper stepped to her side and moved his arm around her, both waving as the helicopter lifted off.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter Forty-Four**

A man sat alone in a room with bright lights, his head laying on a table which was the only piece of furniture in the room besides the chair he was sitting in. He was tired, hungry, and smelled of body odor after sitting in the chair for what seemed like several days with only one or two bathroom breaks and only a little food and water. He hadn't been allowed to shave in the facility where he'd been imprisoned. His mustache and beard were filling in. Nor had he been allowed to contact an attorney. They asked him only one question…over and over again.

"What did Leah Haverty do to break into the DOD systems?" Mark hadn't even heard the door open and close. The man who asked the question was different this time, but he might as well have been the same…same black suit, black tie and white shirt…same haircut.

"She didn't break into the DOD systems," answered Mark without opening his eyes.

"She must have. Gaddafi kept her alive until someone rescued her."

Mark's eyes popped open. This man had said something different. "She fooled him."

"How?"

"She'd told Manning she couldn't do it…over and over again, but he wouldn't listen. But if she hadn't kept the ruse going with Manning, he would have killed her and run. If she hadn't lied to Gaddafi, he would have killed all of us instantly."

"Who is all of us?"

"Her, me, and Doug Manning," answered Mark.

"Anyone else?"

"No. There was no one else there until the last day."

"How did she fool Gaddafi?"

Mark straightened up, then twisted in his chair trying to see the man asking the questions. The man stayed directly behind him. "Well, she did build a small mainframe, installed dumb terminals, modems, a satellite, disk and tape drives. Gaddafi's men gave her the operating system, and it all worked except the satellite. She didn't get anything but static, but I don't think she expected anything else."

"Why did Gaddafi believe she had gotten into the DOD?"

Mark let his head fall back. It allowed the muscles of his shoulders to relax. "He didn't. I mean, she didn't until he told her if she didn't get in, he would kill the rest of us. That was the last day. She had spent all that time, all those days, writing Clists…a really extensive set of Clists."

"And what is a Clist?"

"It's a program that interacts with the machine without being compiled. It's used for simple operations normally because it's slow, but Leah could always do magic with Clists. It can execute other programs, it can display anything you want on a monitor, it can communicate with other terminals and printers. That's what she did. She displayed data streams on her monitor with terms and protocols she knew from her government work. She also displayed them on my terminal, so it looked like we were working together. And at the end, when all hell broke loose, she had executed a Clist that would download a schematic she'd made up to a printer, only it never worked. The ceiling collapsed on all of the computer equipment." Mark laughed. "The funny thing was that if the ceiling hadn't collapsed, Gaddafi would've known she'd been stalling all that time. The schematic was something like instructions you'd get for a model airplane."

"Mr. Hansen, who pulled you out of that building?"

Closing his eyes, he sighed. "I don't know who it was. They were wearing robes and…material…over their faces," he said, motioning with his hand over his face. "They weren't there for me anyway. Leah wouldn't leave without me, so they took me with them. If she hadn't, they would have left me there right along with Doug Manning."

"And how do you know Doug Manning was left there?"

"Because he tried to stop them from taking Leah out. He tried to kill her on the way out, but one of the people taking us out knocked him out and left him."

"Where did they take Miss Haverty?"

"They took her to a separate truck. I didn't see her after that. I don't know where she went. I don't know where she is."

Marked turned his head to one side, hearing raised voices that sounded as if they came from just outside the door, followed by the door opening. "Get out!"

Mark still couldn't see what was going on behind him, but whoever came in hadn't been there previously.

The man who had been questioning Mark, walked out stoned-faced and slightly shook his head at another man standing just outside the door as he left, slamming the door closed behind him.

The clicking sound of this new man's heels on the floor came toward Mark, stood still behind him for a moment, and then quickly moved to the front of the table. He looked familiar to Mark, but he couldn't place him.

"I assume you've asked for an attorney?" the man asked as he removed some papers from his briefcase and studied Mark Hansen. He had dark circles around his eyes, his hair and beard were unkempt, and he slumped as if he had resigned himself to be in this room for the rest of his life.

To Mark, this man looked like a statue…cold as stone…no expression at all. Mark nodded without saying anything.

"My name is Albert Shaefer. I'm an attorney. Leah sent me."

Mark's eyes moved up to the ceiling and filled with tears.

"She said you helped her while she was on Manning's boat, and you did everything she told you to do in Gaddafi's compound. She said you were injured for standing up for her. Is that true?"

Pulling the neck of his dirty t-shirt down below his shoulder, Mark turned so Albert could see the burn scars.

"I told them what she did," said Mark. "They don't believe me."

"They don't have to. What they do have to do is prove there was a DOD breach. They can't, so this will all eventually go away…for you," said Albert. "I'm afraid it won't completely go away for Leah."

"What can I do?"

"You can't do anything more to help her. What you just told them helps more than you know. But she has requested one thing."

Mark cast his eyes down as if he knew what was coming.

"Stay away from her. She doesn't want to see you…hear from you again. Not even by chance across the street."

Swallowing hard, Mark nodded.

"They have nothing to charge you with. You'll be leaving with me by the end of the day. All you have to do is sit still and be quiet for the rest of the interrogation. Before they come back, you'll have a chance to clean up and have a meal, and I'll be here to make sure you do."

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Trapper sat across from Leah at the kitchen table watching as she stared at her sandwich. Occasionally, her head bounced from side to side as her lips moved. "Why are you worried?"

"Mark did things out of desperation…to save himself. What if he doesn't let Albert help him? What if he makes a deal of his own?" she said, thinking out loud.

"You mean to incriminate you? He'd be a fool. He doesn't know enough to make up how you managed to break into the DOD. Their own experts will see right through him."

"I suppose."

"Leah." She continued to stare at her sandwich, so he called her name again, only more softly. "Leah." When she looked up at him, he smiled. "Albert isn't setting you free until the deal is done, no matter how long it takes."

"That's no consolation. I'll be in this big house…alone, and the outside views will eventually get old."

Hearing the slight lilt in her voice, he knew he was slowly drawing her out of her depression. "It'll be over before you know it."

"That might have been true if you weren't leaving as soon as Albert gets back," she said with a slight smile, raising her eyebrows. She had to make him believe she really wasn't worried, otherwise, he wouldn't leave. She hadn't told him, but she was afraid of the worst…that she would have to agree to give up her career in computers. Albert had tried to prepare her, but she still felt like she'd been kicked in the gut.

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As Albert had surmised, both Ernie and Gonzo were picked up at their respective front doors. The second day into their interrogation, Ernie seemed to snap and lapsed into a thicker Jamaican accent. "I don't know anything about computers. I didn't want a computer at the nurse's station at the hospital, so even if I was in Libya, I couldn't tell you anything. I was in Turkey in surgery, assisting Dr. McIntyre while he was teaching surgical techniques. Do you have any idea how tiring surgery can be? When we were done, I went to my hotel room, and sometimes without eating anything at all, I collapsed on the bed from exhaustion. I am not going to repeat myself again. D'yah undastan mi?" she said with her hands on her hips.

Gonzo found the whole process amusing which frustrated his interrogators to the point that they were slamming fists down on the table.

"You really should see a counselor about your anger issues," said Gonzo. "I can give you a referral to a great psychiatrist."

"Where is Dr. McIntyre?"

"The last time I saw him, he was waving goodbye while standing on the tarmac in Turkey," said Gonzo.

"Dr. Gates, I'll have your medical license revoked if you don't start answering some questions. You knew Leah Haverty was in Libya, didn't you?"

Still smiling, Gonzo answered calmly, "I've been answering your questions. Threatening me isn't going to change the truth."

"Don't try me, Gates."

"Whatever your name is…" started Gonzo, "Have you ever been to war?" The man just stared at him. "Didn't think so. Look, I'm a doctor. I don't know anything about computers. I avoid them like the plague. I have been under fire…and still performed surgery with a steady hand," said Gonzo, changing the leg he had crossed to his other one, crossing his arms and relaxing back in his chair…with a smile on his face.


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter Forty-Five**

Trapper and Leah sat on the bed with a plethora of bottles piled between them. While Leah stared at the pile, Trapper waited for her to say something. When it was apparent she was overwhelmed, he started going through the medications.

"Here's the list of medications, what they're for, and your schedule for taking them," he said, passing her some papers. "The second page is just the medication and the schedule and the dose."

Leah took the papers, but did nothing with them.

"Leah, you have to pay attention. I won't be here to do this for you."

"I don't want you to do this for me," she said, looking away. "It's just…" she motioned toward the pile. "It's a lot more medicine."

"Things have changed, Sweetheart. Now, let's go over them." He picked up a bottle. This is the first one on your list. It's for rejection. I'm taking you off the cyclosporine because it can make your reduced kidney function worse. This one can lower your white blood cell count which means you'll be at risk of infection. We may swap you to another one temporarily if your white blood cell counts becomes too low. This is aspirin to help reduce your platelets, and this one is at the bottom of your schedule. It protects you from pneumonia. You'll take one Monday, Wednesday and Friday. This is a statin to keep your cholesterol in check. The rest of these keep the rest of you working…calcium, GI protection, a mild-antibiotic…we'll rotate this one every other month, and the rest of these are vitamins, aminos, phenols."

He stopped to look at her. He'd never seen her look so despondent. Taking the papers from her, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I also got you a pill organizer, so you can put these together once a week. Then until the next week, all you have to do is remember to take what's in a marked pill box at the right time. And when we're back together, we'll sit down at the dinner table and organize them together."

She raised her head and chuckled. "A pill party?"

A smile stole over Trapper's face followed by his mouth twisting. He growled before he gently pushed her back on the bed, sending the pill bottles to the left and right, some rolling off the bed. Eventually, they all rolled off the bed.

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Trapper and Leah were having dinner when Albert arrived. He set his briefcase on the kitchen counter, prepared himself a plate from what was on the stove, and joined them.

As Albert began to eat, Trapper and Leah stopped, watching him expectantly.

Feeling the weight of their eyes upon him, Albert stopped chewing the bite in his mouth, moved his eyes up and seeing the anxious looks across the table, he laid his fork down, finished chewing what was in his mouth and lifted his napkin to his face. As he placed the napkin back on his lap, he apologized. "Sorry, long day and nothing to eat…at all."

"Mark?" asked Leah.

"He's free. Took the whole day, but after I threatened to go public with everything, including the DOD's assertion that you breached their systems, they finally let him go. I think they expected they could use him for leverage, but when I told him the conditions under which I was helping, they gave up."

Leah leaned forward. "Where did he go?"

"He asked to be taken to San Francisco at first, then changed it to Los Angeles," answered Albert between bites.

"And he agreed to stay away from me?"

Albert simply nodded. "But there's more. One of the conditions was that I would present you for questioning. Day after tomorrow."

Now both Trapper and Leah stiffened. "But I thought Trapper had to be in place at the hospital before you started on me?"

Holding up a hand, Albert said, "Settle down. Mark told them how you convinced Gaddafi you had gotten access to a satellite. All you have to do is prove you can do what you did, and then the deal making begins. Part of all this is that they leave Trapper out of it. They know they can't definitively place him in Tripoli. As a matter of fact, the only place they can definitively place him is in Turkey. At the moment, they're worried about a breach. Believe me, they've gone through every log in their systems to find one, and they can't. If you can show them how you so convincingly fooled every one, it comes down to you. At that point, Trapper doesn't matter anymore. They agreed to leave him alone until you're dealt with."

"And what happens after I'm dealt with?" Leah asked, her voice slowly rising.

"By that time, probably nothing. It will have been too long for them to find anything else, and your stories…well, they'll have no way to dispute them."

"So, Trapper, I'm sending you home…tonight."

Leah bolted from the table to prevent Trapper from seeing that the color had drained from her face, feeling that if he saw that reaction, he wouldn't go home. It was only another minute that she felt hands…strong hands…on her arms, then moving around her, then Trapper's chest against her back.

"We talked about this, Sweetheart," said Trapper softly. "Nothing in my leaving has changed. But it sounds like it won't be long before you can join me."

Turning around, she leaned into Trapper. "This seems so unfair. I'm the one who was drugged and kidnapped. I'm the one who was held prisoner and forced to give them what they wanted. I let them think I did without actually doing it. They should be thanking me."

"Don't you see, Leah?" said Albert. "They're afraid of what you can do. You've worked for the DOD before. You've had access to systems with the highest security clearance, and you do things with computers that not many other people can do. They have every right to be afraid."

"Albert, I don't care what I have to give up. I just want it over with," said Leah, her face buried in Trapper's chest.

Standing, Albert walked to the kitchen cabinet with his plate, and leaning back on the cabinet, he said quietly, "Be careful what you wish for, Leah. Now, if you both will excuse me, I need to make arrangements for Trapper to get back to work."

Trapper and Leah stood holding hands as they watched Albert leave the kitchen and continued to look at the doorway long after he was gone. Neither was anxious to take the next step that would lead to…leaving…separation…again.

"We should get your things up to the heliport," said Leah quietly, turning to leave the room.

But Trapper pulled her back into his arms and into a kiss that was hard and deep and seemed to each as if it was their very last kiss.

"Tell me to stay," whispered Trapper, his lips still touching hers, his arms and hands trying to protect her from everything bad in the world.

Forcing her hands between them and up to his face, she pressed her mouth to his and stayed there for a long moment. "You have to go back. You have to be safe, no matter what happens to me. It won't matter if you're not, do you hear me? Nothing will matter. You have to be there when I get back or I…"

Trapper sucked in a breath. "Don't." He gave her a gentle glare before continuing. "Albert told you what you have to do. Can you do it?"

"Yes. I can do it."

"That's all that's left, and then you'll be home…with me." He looked into her eyes as he caressed her cheek. "Where you belong."

After Trapper had all of his meager belongings in the helicopter, he went back to Leah, drawing her against him. "Albert will call me when you're on your way. I know when you're under the gun your other persona takes over. Listen to him, Leah."

Looking up to his face, she managed a smile, though it didn't quite make it to her eyes. "I will," she said, barely getting the words out before he kissed her one last time.

She pushed him away, smiling bravely. "Go. Before I change my mind and ask you to stay."

"You could, you know."

"I know. Now go."

Trapper boarded the helicopter, closed and latched the door, then watched Leah become smaller and smaller until her hand went to her mouth and moved outward, sending him a kiss.

xxxxxxxx

"Good morning, Arnold."

Arnold Slocum, San Francisco Memorial's Administrator stopped in his tracks. Slowly turning, he expected to see the one person who matched that distinctive voice. His smile grew even wider when he saw two of the people who had been missing from his staff…no, his family…for almost a year, and at almost the same time he sighed. Unable to help himself, he hurried forward and embraced them both, one in each arm, and for fear of bursting into tears, he said simply in a rather wispy voice, "Welcome back." He winked, and proceeded on his way, remembering Albert Shaefer's instructions to say nothing and ask no questions. It would be a long time before questions could be answered, if ever.

As the elevator door opened, he stepped aside to let the occupants out and heard that last familiar voice. Two men stepped out and walked away from him toward the nurse's station, one in a white coat, the other in a gray three-piece suit, and as they walked, they discussed the surgery schedule.

Before they got very far from the elevator, Arnold found his voice. "Trapper? Trapper, is that you?"

The two men stopped, and the man in the suit turned halfway and raised a brow. "Arnold, are you all right?"

"I…I just…" Gathering his wits about him, Arnold grasped the lapels of his suit jacket and adjusted them. "It's about time you got back…from Turkey. I assume Dr. Bailey is filling you in on everything that's happened since you've been gone."

"He is. All the surgeries, all the old patients gone, all the new patients, all the problems. It's as if the hospital didn't miss a beat," said Trapper.

"Are you complaining?" asked Arnold.

Trapper's brows furrowed. "On the contrary. I left a clean house. I expect one back."


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter Forty-Six**

"Are you nervous?"

Leah and Albert sat in the back seat of a limousine, and as Leah distractedly looked out the window, she answered quietly, "No, not really. I have nothing to hide and everything to be angry for."

"You need to control your anger, Leah. It doesn't make you any friends."

"These people aren't my friends."

"You thought of the government as your friend once upon a time."

"Obviously, they didn't feel the same about me," she commented with a bit of that old familiar sarcasm in her voice.

Albert turned to her and took her hand. "Listen to me. This can go well or badly, and it all depends on how you act in this interview."

"Albert, it's not an interview. It's an interrogation." She took a deep breath. "I know. I'll be fine."

She didn't recognize any of the men waiting for her when Albert escorted her into what was obviously an interrogation room. There was nothing in the room, but a table, a chair on one side and three chairs on the other, and other than the door, there was one mirrored window. Another chair was brought in for Albert.

She stopped and looked around the room before she slowly entered and just as slowly took a seat.

A man in the observation room behind the mirrored glass silently gasped, taking in her appearance. She wore slacks and a simple blouse...and flats rather than heels. It was obvious her head had been shaved. Sadness coursed through him at the sight of her. This woman standing in front of him was a mere shadow of what Leah Haverty had once been. She was now a wisp…frail looking. She'd lost weight, and her eyes seemed hollow.

"Miss Haverty, it has come to our attention that after the ruse of your death was discovered, you were whisked away to Tripoli and remained in the company of Muammar Gaddafi for several months. Intelligence from that region suggests that you were able to hack into the DOD computer systems to provide Gaddafi with schematics for a missile that could carry a warhead. Do you have any comments about this?"

Bowing her head and laying one hand over the other on the table, Leah said, "First, I was not whisked away like I'd won a prize holiday." She looked directly into the man's eyes. "I was kidnapped. I was drugged, and my life was threatened every hour of every day. And no. Why don't you tell me what you think you know, and I'll tell you if it's true…or not."

"Were you able to break into the DOD computer systems?"

She looked up at the ceiling and laughed. "Of course not. I helped design the DOD security protocols. It wouldn't have been much of a design if I'd created something I or any of my colleagues could get into at any time and through unauthorized links, now would it?"

The man questioning her sat stoically across from her taking notes. "Then how did you manage to do it?"

"Why do you think I did it?"

"Because of reports we were able to intercept in Tripoli about satellite access…and about it working."

"I didn't do it. I couldn't do it even if I wanted to. I told Doug Manning I couldn't do it, but he'd already sold the idea that I could to Gaddafi. Once I was in Gaddafi's possession, saying I could do it kept me…and others…alive."

"What others?"

"Doug Manning…Mark Hansen."

"Who else?"

Her expression changed from uncaring to one of incredulity. "There was a doctor on board Doug's yacht. He brought me back from death so to speak. His name was Badhia…middle eastern. I never saw him after we left the yacht. I don't know what happened to him."

"Who took care of you once you left the yacht?"

"A woman. Her name was Marwa. She was ordered to take care of me so that I could give Gaddafi what he wanted. She was his daughter. She's the one who shaved my head."

"There was no doctor?"

She scowled. "I'm an infidel. There were no men who would willingly have anything to do with a _kafir_. Some were ordered to work with me on the promise they could redeem themselves afterward by taking me as a wife…or shaming me in the streets. Either way, I would not have been killed. I would have been tortured. But I got sick, so they brought a doctor from a clinic in the city. His name was Boudreau."

The man made notes all the while they were speaking. "This Dr. Boudreau. What did he look like?"

Leah shrugged. "Middle-aged, balding, gray beard."

"You mean Dr. John McIntyre, don't you?"

"I wish it had been him. But no. Though that description sounds like Dr. McIntyre, there are probably tens of thousands of men who match that description, and probably thousands who are doctors." She lowered her voice and moved her eyes away. "And I could never mistake someone else for Trapper."

In the next few minutes, no one said anything until a computer and monitor was brought into the room and set up. While it was being put together, the man sitting at the table asked, "Who got you out?"

She managed to show shock when she met his eyes. "Didn't you…I mean the US government…get me out?" When the man stared at her blankly, she muttered, "You bastards. You left me there."

Clearing his throat, the man asked again, "Who got you out?"

"Whoever they were, they were wearing Arab garb…robes…head coverings that also covered all of their faces except their eyes. They shoved me into the back of a truck."

"Then where?"

"A boat, I think." She turned her head to feign concentration. "I think…" Her eyes lit up. "Doug Manning tried to kill me on the way out. There was an explosion, and in the confusion, he pulled me into a room and started to choke me. I don't remember much beyond that. Just little snippets. Like the truck. I'm not even sure I was on a boat. I just remember the way it moved…like there were waves."

"And how did you come upon Mr. Shaefer here?"

Looking as confused as she could, she turned to Albert. "I don't know."

The man looked to Albert with a raised brow.

Albert had been leaning back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other examining his fingernails as Leah was interviewed. He stopped when he caught the interviewer's eye. "A member of my security team was contacted anonymously. He was told we could find Leah on a boat moored off Catalina Island. He came to me with the information, and I dispatched a team of my own security to find her. She's been in my custody for a little over a week."

"And you have no idea who contacted your man?"

"None. No one was on the boat when we found her, and my men surveyed the area before and after we retrieved her. They saw no one. Whoever it was that rescued her were long gone before my security team got to her."

"And why didn't you immediately contact the FBI?"

"My attention was in making sure she was alive and well. Look at her. She doesn't look well now. She was much worse when we found her."

"Why would you do that for her, Mr. Shaefer?"

"Because she's my client, and because I promised her late husband I would see to it she was taken care of."

"Was it you who rescued her in Tripoli?"

"Had I know she was in Tripoli, I certainly would have tried to do what this government should have done. Once again, gentlemen," said Albert, glaring at the mirrored window. "You have completely failed another of your most faithful citizens."

The man closed his portfolio, stood and left. Leah and Albert looked at each other but remained silent. In only another minute, another man came into the room.

"Ms. Haverty, if you'll move to the other side of the table and take the seat in front of the computer." She looked warily at Albert before she did as she was requested. The man took the seat next to her. "Show me how you fooled everyone, please."

She grunted. "Are you familiar with Clists?" When the man nodded, she hovered her hands over the keyboard. "You'll have to give me a sign-in. I'll need access to a mainframe. One that I haven't built lately."

Sliding the keyboard away from her, he tapped some of the keys and was soon at the welcome screen of a mainframe system.

With the keyboard back in front of her, she asked, "Does this system use a standard Interactive System Productivity Facility?"

"It does."

"This may be difficult because I don't know if your protocols are different from a standard installation, but perhaps…" she stopped talking and began typing as the man watched her type page after page of Clist commands, not even stopping to think about what to type. It was as if the language flowed from her fingertips like a person speaks the language into which they were born. It was only a matter of time before a stream of characters flew rapidly down the screen, page after page after page until it stopped at a command line at the bottom of the screen where she typed the word 'connect'. At this point what he saw were letters and numbers dispersed all over her monitor that looked much like a radar screen, but with degrees of orbit, speed and elevation. It did indeed look like a map of satellites in a small sector of space. She then typed one of the identification numbers on the screen on a command line, and a moving graph showing frequencies and traffic and fluctuations appeared on the screen as if she was communicating with a satellite.

The man looked back at another man who had a telephone receiver in his ear and eventually shook his head. She'd not made any connections.

Next, she went to another screen and perused network printers, selected one and went back to her Clist, typed the printer identification on the command line and hit enter, then sat back. "Could someone go get that printout please? Here's the printer ID," she said pointing to her screen.

In a few minutes, another man entered the room carrying an inch high stack of burst printer paper. Everyone looked at it and gasped. The paper contained what looked like communications streams between her terminal and several satellites with telemetry strings in hexidecimal and binary. But when looking at the satellite numbers, they knew none existed. Still, if they hadn't already known about the available satellites, her output would have been awfully convincing.

"It actually looked better than that. I had several months to perfect it. The best of Gaddafi's technicians were supposed to be watching me, and they did, but they needed to give Gaddafi good news, so they didn't question it. They probably didn't understand what they were seeing, and even if they had, they had no way of knowing if the satellites were real or fake. I've seen enough satellite communications to know what it looks like having worked with TelStar and several confidential NASA satellites. And Clists, gentlemen, can display just about anything you want on a computer screen or printer if you just know how to format it."

The man sitting next to her turned to the mirrored window and shrugged. The computer and monitor were disconnected, collected and removed from the room, leaving Albert and Leah alone. She looked at Albert and rolled her eyes, prompting a swift pinch on her leg from Albert.

A completely different man came into the room this time and smiled as he took a seat across the table from Leah and Albert. "Mr. Shaefer, would you excuse us? I'd like to speak with Leah alone."

The corner of Leah's mouth slowly turned up. "It's all right Albert."


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

Albert looked at her sideways before he shook his head, but he left the room without a word.

"Mr. Dorman, this is bigger than Xanda. How did you manage to be my judge?" asked Leah, still smiling.

" _They_ felt I knew you better than anyone else. They seemed to remember we spent a lot of time talking about Xanda and computers in general last year when you were trying to sell your grant request."

Leah looked away. "Last year. That seems like a lifetime ago."

"Leah, they can't find any breach. I can't find any breach. Did you or didn't you?"

"Haven't you answered your own question? asked Leah, moving her hand over Arthur's. "You would have found it if it had been there to find."

Arthur's face became serious. "And what about Doug Manning?"

Casting her eyes down and folding her lips into a line, she answered, "I honestly don't know. It appeared he was left behind. I never saw him once we were out of the building in Gaddafi's compound."

"Would you tell me if the truth was something else?" he asked.

Leah closed her eyes. "Arthur…he took me. He made everyone who cared about me think I was dead by giving me a dose of drugs that had killed everyone they'd tried before me, even knowing I was a transplant patient. He was cruel on his yacht. He showed me a video of Trapper being hit by a car. He burned Mark with a lit cigar. And then he turned me over to someone he knew had no use for women other than for one thing. I'd be lying to you if I told you I cared."

"Would you like to know what happened to Doug Manning?"

"You know?" she asked. When Arthur nodded, she asked so quietly he could barely hear her. "Is he dead?"

"He was publicly beheaded."

She sat quietly for a moment, and though Arthur thought she was thinking it over, in reality she was trying to control her emotions. That fate could have fallen on any one of them, including Trapper.

Leaning back in his chair, Arthur finally relaxed. He had thought he'd find a different person than the woman he'd grown to like in just one long evening. She seemed the same, if not a bit more emotional. "Mark?"

She laughed tiredly. "Mark had gone off the deep end before this ever began. He worked for me at the hospital, and when it looked like Dr. McIntyre and I were gravitating toward each other, he changed. We found out he was reporting back to Doug…about where I went, what I was doing with the application, and how much time I was spending with Dr. McIntyre. He was on the yacht, and he was there with me at Gaddafi's compound. I think, in the end, he regretted what he had enabled Doug to do, but by that time it was too late for me. The last thing I will ever do for Mark, I've already done, and that's refuse to leave him behind in the compound."

"Dr. McIntyre?" asked Arthur, looking her in the eye.

"Dr. McIntyre?" She tilted her head doubtfully. What about him?"

"What part did Dr. McIntyre play in all of this?"

Leaning forward, Leah said, "I don't understand. What does Trapper have to do with this?"

Arthur leaned forward until their noses almost touched. "Was Trapper in Tripoli with you? Was it Trapper who was taking care of you, and was it Trapper who's been taking care of you since you got back?"

Now, Leah allowed herself to break down in tears. Shooting up from her seat, she said through her tears, "You don't know how I prayed he would come for me. And then when Albert found me, he wouldn't allow me to even let Trapper know I was here."

A bit surprised, Arthur asked, "Are you saying Trapper doesn't know?"

Wiping tears from her cheeks, she replied, "No, as far as I know." She closed her eyes and let her lips quiver. "I can't help but wonder if he…if he tried…if he's given me up for dead…again."

"Why wouldn't Albert tell him?"

"He may have. I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "Albert has tried to spare me from a lot of things…because of my heart."

Pulling a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket, Arthur offered it to Leah, who accepted and immediately blew her nose. "Sorry. I'll get it back to you."

Arthur snorted. "Don't worry about it. Come sit back down. We're not finished."

Leah warily sat back down. She felt he was about to drop the building on her.

"Leah, you know they're worried. They never thought anyone would try to exploit someone who had worked on some of the most critical systems in the government, and now they see a huge vulnerability. They see _you_ as a huge vulnerability."

She looked at him and this time the quiver of her chin was real.

"You have a choice. You can work at Xanda where you can be guarded. If you don't choose Xanda, you can't work directly with computers ever again…for anyone."

She slumped. It's not that she hadn't expected something like this, but now it was real.

"There's another option."

Her eyes shot up to his.

"You can be a technical designer." She opened her mouth to speak, but he held his hand up. "You can work from wherever you want. You will be asked to design encryption and access, and though you will know exactly how it works, what you design will be such that you don't control any of the values. You simply come up with the specification of how it will work and someone else programs it and installs it."

"Do I have to answer you now?" she asked nervously.

"You mean you don't know?" asked Arthur, smiling.

She sighed. "I do know the answer won't be Xanda. My heart is in working on the computer. I used to live for building a system, then find ways to break it and make it better. I absolutely love crawling under the floor and finding the correct port to plug something in. And I love the look on men's faces when they realize a woman did it." She bowed her head. "But I guess that's not an option anymore. I just don't know if I can immerse myself like that in words on a piece of paper. I know that's how everything starts, but there's that reward when the designs are done…the chance to actually build it…that I won't have anymore."

"You can do that at Xanda."

"Arthur, if Trapper will have me, I intend to stay with him in San Francisco. Xanda is out of the question."

"If you don't take the design job, how will you survive?"

She chuckled. "I haven't needed to work since my first husband…" Her face slowly became tortured. "And my children…died." Looking out across the room, she finished, "He left me…well off. More than well off. And then there was a settlement for the accident that killed him…and the children. I don't need to work for the money. I need to work…to have something else to think about." She quieted. "And then, if I were to marry Trapper as we had planned…even without what my husband left me and the settlement…I'd never want for anything."

Leah didn't see when Arthur motioned toward the mirrored window, nor did she hear when Albert came into the room. She was unaware until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Arthur stood. "Mr. Shaefer, Leah can't leave until she signs the agreement. I'll bring it to you in a few moments. You can look over it, and then have Leah sign it. She'll have to decide which option before she's released."

"Which option?" asked Albert.

"She has a few," said Arthur, smiling. "It would be a great loss to the country if she chooses to do nothing. Leah," he said, offering his hand.

"Arthur," she said, hesitating. "Do you know about the plutonium?"

Dropping his hand, Arthur's brow furrowed. "Plutonium?"

"Yes, the reactor grade plutonium stolen from Xanda. Was it ever found?"

Now, he slightly turned his head, his eyes quickly moving to the mirrored window and back. "What do you know?"

"Manning was behind the attack on Xanda. He took the plutonium. The only reason he was able to sell me to Gaddafi to find a way to build a missile was because he could supply the radioactive material as well."

Folding his lips into a line, Arthur blew a heavy breath through his nose. "Do you know what happened to it?"

"No. But considering Manning was in Gaddafi's custody, and definitely not a guest, you should assume Gaddafi has it."

Arthur nodded and left.

When the door closed, Albert sat down across from Leah. "What options?"

"Never mind my options. How did they not know Doug Manning took that plutonium? How did they not even suspect?"

"They didn't suspect Doug Manning in anything until they found that your body had been replaced by Angela's. That was well after the break-in at Xanda."

She turned away and said almost to herself, "Where could he have stored plutonium until he could get it out of the states?"

"Leah." When she didn't answer, he raised his voice. "Leah!"

She jumped and faced him.

Taking her hands, he pulled her toward him. "It's not our problem," he said calmly. "And you have a more immediate problem right now. Now, what are your options?"

She closed her eyes and exhaled. "Xanda, where I would be designing and programming…in Livermore. Or writing technical designs and turning them over to someone else to implement…from home. Or…nothing. But other than making a decision, what problem do I have?"

Albert looked long into her eyes. "It's not really a problem…just something you need to understand." When she looked at him with narrowed eyes, he continued. "This agreement you'll be signing. If you don't live up to it...they'll lock you up…for good."

She looked sadly at him. "I don't have a lot of time to think about it."

"Well, you do. You can take as much time as you want. You just can't leave here until you do," said Albert.

She scowled, gave him a sarcastic "Thanks," and lowered her forehead into her hand. "What will I do with myself if I do nothing? I've never done nothing, even when the children were small."

"Well, there's the Children's Hospital at San Francisco Memorial to build. There's oversight, and design, and budget meetings, furniture and medical equipment to review and order…and children. Children who will need medical help and someone to teach them about courage." He leaned forward and took her hands in his. "Leah, you're an intelligent woman. There are other things you can do besides talk to machines." Smiling, he added, "And then there's your guitar. You could invest in that club where you always played."

A slow smile stole over her lips. Perhaps her future wasn't quite as bleak as she'd thought.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter Forty-Eight**

"Are you nervous?"

Leah looked out the window and stuck her tongue in her cheek to prevent a smile. "Déjà vu all over again."

"It's over. You're going home. Are you?"

She looked at Albert with her brows raised.

"Nervous," said Albert, laughing.

She waited to answer and bowed her head. "Truthfully? Yes."

Knowing there would be more coming, Albert waited patiently, glancing out the windows of the limousine.

"Albert, I have a few clothes in a suitcase in the back. I don't have a purse…no ID…no money…no credit cards. I don't know what happened to my belongings at the cliff house. I don't even know if I have a place to stay. Is it really supposed to pick right back up where it stopped?"

Shrugging, Albert said, "I guess you'll find out when we get to the hospital."

"Did you tell him we were coming?"

"No. He was in surgery, and I didn't want to just leave a message. The excitement might have caused problems for the surgery."

The trip from the airport to the hospital took close to an hour with traffic, but it was still before noon by the time they drove up to the entrance. Albert stayed in the car. "You have my number. Call me when you're ready."

Taking her small suitcase from the car, Leah closed the door and waved goodbye, waiting for the limousine to pull out of the parking lot. She turned and looked up at the name of the hospital over the entrance. Why was she nervous? Sure, it wasn't the same. She was going in without a job, where someone else was running her mainframe, her application, sitting in her office. Where she was once a Chief Information Officer and on the Board of Directors. Now she was…no one important. She couldn't even say she was a computer programmer anymore. How much of what she did made her the woman Trapper said he loved? What if she was boring as no one?

Blowing out of her mouth, she sucked in another deep breath and moved forward, pulling the main door open and walking directly to the reception desk. "Can you tell me where I can find Dr. McIntyre?"

"Just a moment," said the clerk as she picked up the telephone. When she hung up the phone, she said, "I'm sorry, he's in surgery at the moment. Can someone else help you?"

"No. I'll just wait in the surgical waiting room. I know where it is." Turning toward the elevator, she hit the up button. It seemed like an eternity before the doors opened. She stepped in, and when it stopped on the right floor, she looked up and down the hall before she stepped out. She passed familiar faces, but no one appeared to recognize her. Of course, her hair was short, and she'd lost weight, and they were used to seeing her march down the hall in her heels and black skirt and jacket.

She stopped in front of the surgical waiting room doors about the same time Gonzo came out and almost bumped into her. He stopped, his jaw slack, but in another moment, his arms were around her, and it seemed he wasn't going to let go.

"Is this real?" he whispered in her ear. "Are you back? Is it done?"

She laughed. "Yes, it's done. And I'm done. Here, at least." She backed away from him and cast her eyes down to the floor, the reality of it just beginning to sink in. "Actually, I'm done anywhere. I can't program anymore. For anyone."

Somehow Gonzo knew. It seemed she was barely holding herself together. "Come over here," he said, guiding her gently over to the vending machines. He put some change in the machine and punched the button for orange juice. "Here. Drink this."

"Can I see Trapper?" she asked, after taking a sip.

"He's in surgery."

"I know. Can I watch him from the observation room?" When Gonzo's eyes narrowed, she added, "If I can just see him, I think I'll feel better." Gonzo's hesitation made her swallow hard. "Gonzo, he won't let it disturb his surgery. You know he won't."

"Ernie's in there, too."

"Of course she is. And she's as much a professional as he is."

Smiling, Gonzo shook his head. "You're right. Come with me. But be quiet."

Leah followed Gonzo through the doors of the surgical suite, down the hall, and into a door she new went into the observation room normally used for residents and interns to observe surgeries where the surgeon explained everything he did. In this case, Trapper might not even notice she was there, depending on the complexity of the surgery. Gonzo took the seat next to her.

"What's he doing?" she whispered, as there were several other doctors in the observation room.

"An aortic valve replacement," Gonzo replied.

When Trapper's voice came through the speakers, she closed her eyes and listened to its deep, soothing timbre. Even though they had been apart only a short time compared to their first separation, actually sitting this close to him had seemed impossible only a few hours ago.

Detailing what he was doing for the benefit of those in the observation room, Trapper said, "I see the heart. We're inserting the tubes, one in the right atrium which will send the oxygen-depleted blood to the heart-lung machine and another that goes into the aorta for freshly oxygenated blood coming out of the machine. Clamp please. Good. Now let's try the bypass," Trapper said. "Once the bypass is working and has removed most of the blood from the heart, the temperature of the patient and the heart specifically will be brought down enough so that the heart stops beating." Talking to the perfusionist operating the bypass machine, Trapper asked quietly, "How are we doing?"

"Bypass functioning normally, Doctor."

"All right. Let's get the heart stopped," said Trapper. Taking a syringe from Ernie, he continued, "This is a potassium solution that will help speed up the process of stopping the heart." After injecting the solution into the heart tissue, he passed the syringe back to Ernie who handed him a bottle. "And with this cold saline solution I'm using to bathe the heart, we'll have between two and four hours to complete the valve replacement…plenty of time. The valve we'll be using today will be created from the patient's own pericardial tissue. It's a tough tissue that we'll use to create the leaflets of the valve, and we'll anchor them in the aorta by sewing the ring to which they are attached into the aorta at about the same position as the malfunctioning valve. Can anyone answer why I'm using a pericardial tissue valve rather than a mechanical valve?" he asked, turning toward the audience.

As he scanned the faces in the audience, someone finally raised their hand, but Trapper didn't notice. His eyes were locked on Leah's, and for a moment, he forgot he was in an operating room.

Ernie looked up and seeing Leah, she smiled, then realized Trapper had frozen. "Trapper?" When he didn't move, she left her tray and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We have a patient," she whispered.

Leah swore she saw moisture gathering in his eyes. She smiled and nodded.

Taking a deep breath, Trapper looked at his hands for a moment, both raised so as not to touch anything in the room, then he turned to the doctor who had raised his hand. To Trapper, it felt as if his eyes had locked on Leah's for a long time, but in reality, the exchange only took a minute. "Yes, Dr. Madison."

"Mechanical valves are prone to collecting clots, so the patient has to take blood thinners. With a valve created from his own tissue rather swine or bovine, there's virtually no chance of rejection."

"You are correct, Doctor. So what's the next step?" asked Trapper, back to himself again.

"Remove the original valve, measure the leaflets of the valve and manufacture new leaflets from the pericardial tissue, and then attached them to the ring."

"Correct again," said Trapper, returning to his work. In a little over an hour, Trapper was attaching the newly created valve to the inside of the aorta. "Now with the valve in place, what's next gentlemen?" he asked without looking up at the observation room.

"Test the valve, Dr. McIntyre."

"And how do we do that?" asked Trapper.

"Allow some of the oxygenated blood to flow through the valve."

"All right. Here we go," he said as he partially removed the tube from the heart-lung machine from the aorta. Both he and his assisting surgeon bent their heads down to examine the valve with blood flow.

"I see no leaks, Dr. McIntyre," said his assistant. "Good work."

Nodding his thanks, Trapper said, "All right, let's remove the tubes, close those incisions, and see if we can get the heart started again. Now, the heart can start on its own once the warm blood from the machine begins to flow through. But what has to be done if the heart doesn't start on its own?"

"You'll have to use the paddles to shock it, Doctor," said one of those in the observation room.

"And it looks like we're going to have to do that. The heart's in fibrillation. Paddles," he said over his shoulder.

Moving her tray out of the way, Ernie flipped the switches on the operating room's mounted defibrillator and handed Trapper paddles specifically made to shock the heart directly.

Once he had them positioned over the heart, he said, "Charge," and waited.

"Charged," said Ernie.

"Clear," said Trapper, sending everyone's hands away from the patient. Trapper touched the heart with the paddles which emitted an electrical pulse causing the heart to slightly jerk at first, but in another moment, the heart was beating normally.

Addressing his assistant, Trapper asked, "Dr. Jamil, would you like to close?"

Gonzo touched Leah's arm and motioned her to the door of the observation room. When they were in the hallway of the surgical suite, he gave her a handkerchief from his coat pocket. "Why are you crying?"

"Because he came so close to not being able to do that anymore. Because of me."

Moving his arm around her, he walked her out to the waiting room. "But he didn't. Because of you. And it's all over, right?" When she smiled, he said, "Why don't you wait in Trapper's office? I'm sure he'll be there as soon as he can leave the operating room."

"What about the doctor who took his place? Isn't he still here?"

"Oh, he's here. But he couldn't wait to get out of that office. Chief of Surgery is not an easy job, and most doctors would rather play doctor all the time than play at politics part of the time."

She laughed. "Trapper doesn't do that very well."

Laughing with her, Gonzo touched the button on the elevator. "No, he doesn't. But his talents as a surgeon greatly outweigh his lack of tact. And quite frankly, he doesn't care what the board thinks."


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter Forty-Nine**

Leah tentatively stepped just inside Trapper's office, clasping the handle of the suitcase she carried in front of her. It seemed exactly the way he'd left it. And it seemed she'd come full circle in her feelings about this office…uncomfortable at first, then comfortable, and now…why did she feel uncomfortable? What used to feel like…home…felt strange now. She decided she just didn't know her place anymore. She jumped at the sound of a voice behind her.

"Excuse me. Can I help you?" The man stepped around her into the office. "I'm Dr. Bailey."

Smiling timidly, Leah replied, "I was just waiting for Trapper to come out of surgery. I'm Leah Haverty."

Dr. Bailey's mouth slightly opened. "Miss Haverty," he said, "It's an honor. John's been worried."

"Worried?"

"Well, he hadn't heard anything for a little while. Maybe anxious is a better word."

She nodded and smiled, then moved toward the sofa and set her suitcase down.

"John said you designed and installed the computer system here."

"Yes, well, it seems a lifetime ago that I did that."

"Will you be coming back? Mr. Slocum's still not satisfied with his CIO. He's already fired one."

"No. I'm afraid I'm…" she looked around the room for something that would steady her, "…retired."

"That's too bad. You have a reputation around here for getting things done."

Looking out the window, she wrapped her arms around herself trying to hold her tears at bay. "As I said, a lifetime ago."

"Leah."

The voice from the doorway made her hold her breath. It hadn't been that long since she'd seen Trapper, but that was a different place and time, and this was… _why does this feel so strange_?

"You're home, Leah. You don't have to feel out of place here," said Trapper, moving behind her and wrapping his arms around her while he moved his face next to hers.

"I didn't know where else to go."

"Uh, Miss Haverty, it was nice to meet you," said Dr. Bailey. "I…uh…need to get back to work."

Trapper looked over at Bailey and nodded, but said nothing. He waited for the door to click shut, and crooking his jaw, he squeezed her shoulders, then sat down on the corner of the desk. "Where else would you go?"

She turned, but didn't look at him. Rather she cast her eyes down to the floor and said quietly. "I don't know. I feel…numb…lost."

Trapper nodded slowly. "Tell you what. Why don't I take you to the house? I can imagine walking into this hospital might be a little overwhelming."

The corner of her mouth turned up. "And walking into your house won't be?"

Now his brows furrowed, and he reached out to take her arms. "Can you talk to me?"

She chuckled. "I'm talking to you now."

A deep sigh escaped his mouth. "About what's wrong."

"I don't know what's wrong. I don't know if that's even the right word…wrong, I mean," she said, stepping against him and laying her head on his chest. "I don't know…what's wrong. I just…I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm in the way, and I feel like…" she pushed away far enough to see his face. "Like I don't belong anywhere. Like I'm not in control anymore."

"It's been awhile since you were. But as soon as we give you a good once over, just to make sure everything is as expected, there's no reason you can't get back to it. Slowly, at first."

She bowed her head as if in shame. "Trapper, I can't. The agreement I signed…I can't work with computers anymore…for anyone."

"Oh." Trapper was lost for words for only a minute. "There must be a hundred things you can sink your teeth into. What do you want to do?"

Dropping her forehead into her hand, she laughed. "I don't know. I guess I need to think about it. Do you know what happened to my things from the pool house?"

"I do. They're in one of the spare bedrooms at the house."

Raising her head quickly, she said, "They are? You kept it all? Even my clothes?"

"I didn't want to deal with it all until after your funeral…and then you weren't at your funeral." He pulled her into him. "Leah, part of me never believed you were dead. Someone who swims as well as you wouldn't have gotten into a position to drown. And then when it wasn't you…"

"So you kept my things."

"I had hopes you'd come home to claim them."

Moving her hand to his face, she said, "I guess I need a little time to digest everything before I figure out a direction. So can I stay in your guest room?"

"No, you may not," he said with his brow furrowed. When her eyes widened, he laughed. "You can stay in the master bedroom with me."

"But we're not married."

"That's not a problem. Or if it is, we can take care of that this evening. But you never had a problem staying in my bedroom before all this…happened."

"I just don't want to… What I mean is if things have changed for you…" She wasn't able to finish her sentence.

Trapper's mouth was on hers, and he wasn't about to end his kiss quickly. Without quite moving away, he whispered, "Nothing has changed," and continued his kiss.

xxxxxxxx

"Leah, come in. Trapper told me you'd be right up."

"Thank you for seeing me on short notice, David," said Leah. "Trapper thought…" Closing her eyes, she tried to control her tears, but they escaped down both cheeks anyway.

"Come sit down. Where's Trapper now?" asked David.

"We were going to go to the house, but he had some appointments he couldn't reschedule, so he suggested…that…maybe…"

"Leah, how do you feel about death? Your death?"

She sniffed, then chuckled. "I've died before, David. That's about as close to death as a living person can come," she said with a scowl.

"It appears Leah Haverty is alive and well," David responded with a smile. "Your prior death was different. It wasn't at the hands of a terrorist dictator. It wasn't in a foreign country where you were alone…surrounded by people and places you didn't know."

"I wasn't afraid for myself, David."

"Who were you afraid for?"

She locked eyes with him. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell him she was sick inside for putting Trapper in the position to come after her in a country with a dictator who would have beheaded him if they'd found out who he was and why he was there. Lowering her head, she rubbed her forehead. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

Sandler looked at her sideways for a moment, then stood and took his jacket off the coat tree near the door of his office. "Let's go."

"Go? Where are we going?"

David didn't say anything. He shook his head and opened the door, waiting for her to walk through.

With her brow furrowed, she rose from her chair and passed through the door, then followed him to the elevator where they rode down to the main floor in silence and walked out of the front door of the hospital.

David hailed a cab, and when they got in the car, he told the cabbie, "Get lost."

Leah looked at David wide-eyed. "What are you doing?"

Moving his finger over his lips, he only shook his head.

"Should I be nervous?"

Now, David chuckled. "Of course not."

When the cabbie stopped the car, he was in front of a park teeming with people, parents and children, young lovers, seasoned husbands and wives casually walking hand in hand. "This is the best place to get lost in the city. Only locals come here," the cabbie explained.

David passed the man some money. "Thank you." Pushing the car door open, he stepped out.

Leah sat there unsure what to do, but when David's hand came back in the car, she took it and found herself being pulled out, and then quickly whisked into the crowd. "David, what is this about?" she said loudly as she was pulled ever deeper into the crowd. She got no answer. They didn't stop their hurried pace until they were standing on a dock.

"Two hours," said David as he gave the man on the dock money. He turned to her. "After you. Watch that first step."

Moving to the edge of the dock she looked down into a…paddle boat. She looked back at David. "Are you kidding? Really?"

"Get in," he said, stepping into her back and giving her a gentle nudge. Once they were seated, he said, "Now peddle."

"David, I'm not sure I want to go out in the middle of this lake with you. You're acting…strangely."

Giving her a relaxed smile, he said, "Relax and enjoy it. We're going somewhere you can speak freely without any fear of being overheard. And I am bound by doctor/patient confidentiality." They paddled to the middle of the small lake and stopped. "Now, who were you afraid for?"

"Trapper."

"Why?"

"Don't you know?"

"Know what?"

"He was there."

"Where?"

"In Libya. In Gaddafi's compound. He was there with me, taking care of me."

"Oh. OH!"

"You mean you hadn't already figured that out?"

"Well, no. Trapper said he was in Turkey. I believed him."

Leaning back in the paddle boat, Leah turned away and rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Then why are we out here in the middle of a lake where no one can hear us?" she yelled.

Looking around him, David shushed her. "You keep yelling like that someone will hear us."

"David, why did you feel the need to take me where we couldn't be heard?"

"Because I thought maybe you were being followed and that was why you felt you couldn't speak freely in my office. Trapper said you were being questioned by the Feds, and they had made you sign some agreement that prevented you from working with computers. Ever."

"That's true."

"And how does that make you feel?"

Her shoulders sank as her jaw dropped. "We're really going to do this in a paddle boat in the middle of a lake?"

He raised a brow waiting for an answer.

"I feel…" she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I feel…out of place. Like I've fallen into a deep hole, and I don't know how to get out. Everything is…off."

David crossed his legs and pulled a carrot stick out of his pocket, offering it to Leah. When she accepted he pulled out another one and stuck it in his mouth. "Tell me about Libya…Gaddafi."

"I really don't want to keep rehashing that. But I will tell you that when I woke up from being very sick, and Trapper was leaning over me, at first I thought it all might be a dream. But then he shook his head and introduced himself as Dr. Boudreau, and I knew it was all real. At that point, I…" She lowered her head.

David waited patiently, and when it seemed she wasn't going to finish, he said, "Go on."

"I wished I was dead. If I had died, he wouldn't have come after me, he wouldn't have gone into Tripoli, and he wouldn't have put himself in the position of being sent to Muammar Gaddafi's compound where they would just as soon chop off your head than look at you. I was afraid Gaddafi would kill him, and Trapper…Trapper didn't do anything to make me feel otherwise. He was being his obstinate self…in front of Gaddafi." Her voice had begun to rise until David put his hand over hers, reminding her.

"So you're angry with Trapper."

"No. I should be, but I'm not. I'm angry with myself."

"For not dying?"

She shrugged. "Now he's left with someone who's even more unhealthy. He's the one who's going to be taking care of me. He's the one…" She turned her body to face him. "David, I don't know how long I've got, but I do know…I'm sure of it…Trapper is going to outlive me by far. We might have two, three, maybe five years at best. And then he's going to plan a funeral all over again."

"So you feel you're left with a choice."

She sat back again, but her eyes never left his.

"You should say it out loud, Leah."

She was silent for a while, and David thought she'd end up in tears before she spoke, but her eyes remained dry, although very despondent. "I don't know what to do. If I were to leave him now, he'd never have to take care of me as I get worse…to the point I can't take care of myself. I know it would hurt him, but maybe it would hurt less than watching me deteriorate."

"Is that what you really want?"

"Of course not. But it doesn't matter what I want."

"So you think that's what he wants?"

"No. I don't. Whatever I do, Trapper will be hurt."

"So he's hurt now or hurt later. Seems about the same for Trapper either way."

Now a tear did roll down her cheek.

"Leah, in my experience…because of what I do, people like you tend to sell themselves short because they're so concerned for the ones they love. The truth is, you have no idea how long you have. You have no idea if you'll slowly deteriorate or if you'll go quickly…maybe in your sleep. That's something that crosses the minds of all of us who choose to love someone as we get older. So your choice really is to spend what time you have left with Trapper or not." He took her chin and turned her face toward his. "We both know what he would choose."

"Am I being selfish?"

"Of course it's selfish. But that's not the question you should be asking yourself. The question is, do you love Trapper enough to give him the best of what you have left. Leah, he's a doctor. He's not unfamiliar with death, even of those he loves. He knows we all have to go, and he knows those he loves, his family, his friends are going to leave one day. He knows he'll leave one day. Death is a part of life. Trapper is not a fragile man, and you have nothing to worry about. In fact, all you have to do to make Trapper happy is live every minute of every day to its fullest."

"How do you know?" she asked, pouting.

"Because he invited me to the wedding…again…this morning. And he was extremely excited about it."


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter Fifty**

After Dr. Sandler brought Leah back to the hospital, she headed for Trapper's office, but before she made it there Gloria stopped her. "If you're looking for Trapper, he's not in his office. He's in surgery. Car accident victim with internal injuries."

"How long has he been in surgery?" asked Leah.

"Over an hour."

Smiling apologetically, Gloria went on her way, leaving Leah to wonder what to do with herself. She looked up and down the hall before she headed for the elevator and pushed the button for the executive suite. Once again, when the doors opened, she looked out first before she ventured out into the hallway. She slowly walked by her old office, looking in through the glass. It was empty. In fact, it looked recently vacated. Continuing on, she stopped at the door to Mr. Slocum's office, and raising her hand to knock, she hesitated. He didn't necessarily know about the agreement she'd signed, and she wasn't prepared to have that conversation. Unfortunately, just as she lowered her hand, the door opened.

"Miss Haverty," said Arnold, wearing a wide smile as he grabbed her hand, shaking it. "It's so good to see you. You've arrived home just in time." Before she could say anything, he pulled her into his office and offered her the chair in front of his desk. "Now," he started, "When can you come back to work?"

"Uh...Mr. Slocum, I can't come to work in my former capacity."

Arnold's smile faded. "If it's money, I can offer you a raise," he said hopefully.

She smiled. "It has nothing to do with money. The Federal government has forbidden me to work with computers again. Unless, of course the computer belongs to them, and then I'd live a very lonely life."

"I don't understand."

"Mr. Slocum, I know things about the government computer systems that not a lot of people know. I was taken for that knowledge, and now that's has happened, the government is afraid it might happen again, even though I couldn't do what was expected of me. But I do know where everything is physically, and I do know where terminals are, and I do know what is needed for access. With technology changing by leaps and bounds, if someone was in the right place at the right time with some kind of device that could quickly try all the possible entry codes..." She sighed. "They think I know too much, and they want to see that I'm forgotten. So there will be nothing in my future that even remotely connects me and a computer."

"That's really too bad. I need a competent CIO."

"I see no harm in helping you find one," said Leah, looking at him with bright eyes. "But I can't go downstairs, and I can't have a computer anywhere near me when I do interviews."

Trapper heard her voice from the hallway. He quietly pushed the door open, leaned against the door frame, and crossed his arms, listening.

"How would you test their abilities if you can't use a computer?" asked Arnold.

"I don't have to test the candidates I know. Their technical skills are up to par. It's their management and organizational skills I would need to judge."

"When can you start?" asked Arnold.

Now Trapper stepped forward. "Wait a minute, Arnold. She just got back today. She hasn't even been home."

Arnold sat down and huffed. "But I let my CIO go this morning. I need someone now."

Chuckling, Trapper replied, "What were you going to do before you knew Leah was home?"

"I have no idea," said Arnold, sounding helpless. " You don't suppose you could get that young man back you worked with before, do you? What was his name? Hansen, wasn't it?

Leah's expression turned cold. "No, I can't. I have no idea where he is. Nor do I want to know," she added quietly.

Trapper gently squeezed her shoulder. "We need to get her settled in before she decides what she wants to do."

Reaching up to touch Trapper's hand, Leah smiled. "Give me a couple of days, Mr. Slocum."

As Trapper slowly pulled her up from the chair, he said, "More like a couple of weeks. Good night, Arnold."

"Miss Haverty, you'll have everything you need," begged Arnold.

When Leah tried to turn back, Trapper moved his arm around her waist and kept her moving forward. "We're going home, Arnold." He didn't let go until they were in the elevator and the doors were closed.

"New habit?" asked Leah, looking Trapper up and down as they slowly dropped five floors.

Trapper watched her eyes move over him. "I saw David on the way to my office after surgery. I decided my time would be better served looking for you…to see what you were getting yourself into…instead of changing out of my greens."

"I'm not a child."

"You are definitely not a child," he said, now looking her up and down with appreciative eyes. "But you do get into things you shouldn't."

Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Are you going to be telling me what I can and can't do in the future?"

He pushed the hold button on the elevator. "I'm not telling you what you can and can't do. I am going to tell you what you should and shouldn't do. Any kind of stress is going to have a physical effect. You don't need to work."

She closed her eyes and flexed her shoulders.

"At least you're not popping your neck anymore."

After a rather lengthy exhale, she clasped her hands in front of her and bowed her head, looking down at the floor. "Do you believe in fate, Trapper?"

"I don't know. I've never given it much thought. Why?"

"There are so many things I could have done differently from the job that brought me to this hospital to the job I was offered…to doing what my gut told me and keeping you at a distance…long ago it seems. I don't want to fight, Trapper. I just don't have the energy anymore. So tell me. Why do you work? You don't need to work. And I don't need to hear the answer, but you can apply that answer to me." Reaching past him, she pressed the hold button, releasing it. When the doors opened, she stepped out without looking to see if Trapper followed, and when she arrived at Trapper's office, she went inside and began to collect her belongings.

Trapper closed the door when he entered the office and leaned back against it, watching her.

Once she had her meager belongings gathered, she walked to the door. "Excuse me, please."

"Where do you think you're going?"

"A hotel."

Trapper furrowed his brows. "Not on your life."

Letting her head fall back, she said, "I'm not fighting with you."

"Then let's not," he replied, moving his hand past her waist to her back. He pulled her against him and kissed her at the same time he took the suitcase handle out of her hand, letting it drop to the floor.

"Now," he said softly, giving her another quick kiss. "Where are you going?"

"I have no idea," she said, feeling a bit dizzy after his last kiss.

"Repeat after me," he said before he kissed her again. "I'm going home."

Rather than saying the words, she let her forehead fall to his chest.

"Is it really that hard?"

"I haven't even been back a whole day."

"I know exactly how to eliminate your confusion. We should get married…now."

"Now." There was no emotion in that word. Rather she was feeling both emotionally and physically exhausted.

"Okay, not now. How about this week?"

"Why are you rushing this, Trapper?" she asked, taking a step back.

Looking into her eyes, he said, "Leah, you've been to Hell. And even though you've returned from Hell, you really haven't. I think the best way for you to put it behind you is to move on with the rest of your life. We were about to get married when all this started, if you'll remember."

She smiled. "You've been talking to David. I thought that was confidential."

"I haven't spoken to David other than discussing where you might have gone when you got back. I don't need David to tell me that you need to start living instead of dwelling on what's happened to you. I'm not minimizing what you've been through, but the longer you take to dig out of it, the harder it will be."

"Can we just go?" she whispered. "I just want to close my eyes and sleep without worrying about what's going to happen when I wake up. It's been so long since I've had the luxury."

Nodding, Trapper said, "I just need to change." He took his slacks, shirt and tie off the coat rack, laying them out on his desk. He changed without going into the bathroom, afraid she'd leave once he was out of sight. He watched while she sat waiting on the sofa, her eyes closed and furrows in her brow. It was easy to tell she was tired, certainly physically, but she was also emotionally weary. If he could just get her home to a familiar place, a place where she'd been happy, perhaps she'd be able to relax. He knew it would be hard for her to slow down. She had been used to a work schedule few people could maintain and stay sane, and knowing that, he wondered if there had ever been a time when she just stopped working, in body and in mind. Smiling, he remembered their trip to Pescadero, and then, picking up the picture from his credenza, he remembered Albion where she finally stopped working and enjoyed life in the moment…with him.

In the car and now at home she was quiet. Before she climbed the stairs, she looked up as if she was expecting to see…something…that would draw her back under.

Trapper stayed out of her way, allowing her to go where she wanted…do what she wanted. He knew it would be an adjustment. She had not left this house. She'd left the cliff house, another place where she could stop working. She was different there where there was nothing she needed to do, no machine to build and nothing to prove.

She had taken one step up the stairs, but hesitated and stepped back down, heading toward the kitchen when Trapper took her hand and pulled her into a gentle embrace. "I have an idea. I was able to clear my schedule for a few days. Why don't we go back to Albion?" He shrugged lightly. "Nothing there but time to heal."

"Is that what you want to do?" she asked softly. When he chuckled, she smiled and laid her hand on his chest, remembering how his deep, quiet laughter rumbled within him. It stirred her, making her long for times past. Could they…could she…find that with him again? She hadn't a doubt when they were at Snowater, but that was a place she knew was temporary. This was the rest of her life, however long or short that might be.

"What's changed since Snowater?" he asked.

She smiled with her eyes closed. "We were still in it then. It wasn't over, and I was living one day at a time, not expecting anything out of the next day. I wasn't making plans." She took his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing his knuckles. "I keep wondering if I'll wake up and find myself still there. I don't want to get my hopes up if this is really just another dream."

Taking his hand from hers, he moved it slowly down her back as he stepped into her. "I'll just have to make you believe it's real." He had slowly moved toward her lips, and just after his last word, he kissed her softly, slowly, and then more firmly until she was cocooned within his arms. He whispered to her between his kisses. "We're going to go upstairs and turn in, and in the morning, we are going to throw some clothes, our toothbrushes, and your meds in a duffel, and we are leaving for a long weekend. Just you and me." When she looked up at him with an arched brow, he answered in kind for just the right amount of time before he asserted himself, quickly bending and lifting her into his arms and carrying her up the stairs.


	51. Chapter 51

**Chapter Fifty-One**

Trapper rose first, slipping his arms from around Leah and rising very slowly from the bed. He headed for the bathroom, but stopped and looked back. Smiling, he remembered the night, a night that reminded him of their very first night together. She'd cried, finally letting him see all her fears, all her pain. Very slowly and gently, he loved them away until finally she became the woman she'd been before her abduction.

Leah was surprised when she walked out of the house in front of Trapper only to find her Jeep in the driveway. "Uh…Trapper?"

"It's been in the garage. I took it to have it cleaned up and checked out when I got back. Gonzo picked it up for me and dropped it off sometime early this morning."

"Really? It's early now. He got up that early to do this?" When Trapper chuckled, she added, "I'll have to remember to thank him for his sacrifice."

Throwing the duffel in the back of the Jeep along with his guitar, Trapper opened her door and held her hand while she climbed in. Before he pulled out of the driveway, she stopped him. "Why are we leaving so early? It's only three hours to Albion."

"It is if we go up 101. But we're not going that way." He grinned when she raised a brow. "We're taking the long route up the PCH. We can stop at the lighthouse at Point Reyes, maybe have a late breakfast in Bodega Bay, stop at some of the shops along the way, and get into Albion for an early dinner."

She nodded and looked down at her hands.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his smile replaced by a worried frown.

"I think Arnold would be upset if he knew we were vacationing when he needed help."

He opened his mouth, and before he said anything he clamped his teeth together. "Can you stop thinking about the hospital? Believe it or not, they will muddle their way through without you."

She twisted her mouth and looked away. "Ouch."

"You don't really believe they can't get by without you, do you?"

She cut her eyes over to him as she pulled her sunglasses out of her purse. "No, of course not, she said, turning her face to the rising sun. "They've done just fine without me for almost nine months now. It would just be nice to feel needed again."

Trapper had a hard time keeping his eyes on the road as he looked at her, remembering their first trip to Albion when he looked over at her then, the wind blowing her hair back, though it was short now, a smile just touching her lips, and her face turned up to the sun. She was relaxed then, maybe for the first time since they'd met. But was she relaxed now? Reaching over, he covered her hand with his and was rewarded with a magical smile that made it to her eyes.

Driving over the Golden Gate Bridge and through Marin City, they turned off on Highway 1, winding their way through the Marin Headlands to the coast. Their first stop was the Point Reyes Lighthouse. They walked down the 308 steps to the lighthouse, but Leah couldn't make it all the way back up, so Trapper carried her on his back.

Out of breath by the time they reached the top, he set her down and bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. "I'm not this badly out of shape. If you hadn't had me laughing all the way up, I'd have been fine," he said between breaths. "Giddy-up," he said sarcastically.

"Uh huh," she said, still laughing.

Once he'd caught his breath, he joined her in her apparent happiness, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her as he slowly spun her around. When she smiled at him, a smile that lit up her face, he knew he was on his way to accomplishing what he'd hoped for this trip, and that by the time they returned home, she'd be comfortable enough to finally marry him. But he wasn't going to push it. They were only a third of the first day into their trip. "Are you hungry?"

"Well, all we had for breakfast was fruit, so yes, I'm staaaarrrrving," she said with her arms still around his neck.

"Then we'd better get back to the car because there is nothing to eat around here." Walking hand in hand to the car, Trapper opened her door and held her hand as she stepped up into the Jeep. Once in his seat with the Jeep started, he said, "Next stop, Bodega Bay and some of the best clam chowder on the west coast."

"Clam chowder? Oh, I'm not stopping there. I haven't had a good old fried anything since I've been back in the states."

Clearing his throat, Trapper replied, "Leah, eating like that will not do well with your heart or your kidneys."

Leah became quiet. She propped her elbow on the window opening of her door and looked out at the scenery flying past them. "It's not like I eat like that all the time. I can't remember the last time I had fried fish."

Trapper kept his eyes forward, but breathed deeply thinking he really shouldn't say anything about her condition on this trip. This one time wasn't really going to hurt her, and…" His thoughts were jarringly interrupted.

Suddenly turning back to him, she lightly punched his arm and said defiantly, "Oh, come on! This once isn't going to hurt me. This can be my yearly food fling." When Trapper glanced over at her, one corner of her mouth was turned up on the same side as an arched eyebrow, making her look quite comical.

Trapper couldn't help but laugh, a quiet controlled laugh at first, followed by an opened-mouth laugh. Leaning in to him, she kissed, then bit his ear hard enough for him to say, "Ouch."

She moved her hand to his leg. "Seriously, Trapper. I know I have to watch…everything, but can't I just be normal? Just for a little while. Can you stop being my doctor, and just be my…"

Pulling the Jeep over on the side of the road, Trapper cut the engine, then turned to face her. "Your what?"

She moved closer, softly kissing his lips, and between each description, she kissed him again. "My best friend, my confidant, my lover, my fiancé…my husband."

Trapper kissed her in kind, but longer after the last description. "I'm not your doctor," he said with a smile.

She smirked. "Maybe not on paper."

"I couldn't be your doctor even if I wanted to. You don't listen to me when it comes to your health."

"Not true, Dr. McIntyre," she said, still face to face with him. "Who was it that started me on my new medication regimen?"

"Gonzo and I came up with that together, as Gonzo and I do normally."

"All right, then who reminds me when I'm being a bad girl?"

"Hm," he grunted, kissing her again. "Your best friend, your confidant, your lover, your fiancé. I'm not your husband yet."

"What if we fixed that this weekend?" she asked, rubbing his nose with hers.

"Can't do it," he said between kisses. "I already have people on standby for the wedding."

"Maybe we should talk some things through this weekend, then."

"Perhaps. But we need to get moving or we won't make it to Albion to have dinner on our deck while we watch the sunset." Starting the Jeep and shifting into first gear, Trapper eased the vehicle back on the road.

In Bodega Bay, Trapper stopped in a parking lot that didn't seem to be attached to anything. He led Leah down a long path to a dock, then walked out on the dock to a building walled mostly by glass. Beyond the building at the end of the pier were outside tables set up for lunch.

Once inside, they waited only a moment until a man close to Trapper's age, but more weathered, as if he'd lived in the wind and sun by the ocean all his life, greeted him by name. "Trapper," he said with a wide smile and an extended hand, "It's about time you got here. Where'd you stop?"

"Lucas," said Trapper, shaking the man's hand heartily, "It's good to see you, you old dog. This is Leah Haverty."

"Ah, Miss Leah, it's good to finally meet you. I hope you know this man is just head over heels in love with you. You'd have to be pretty special to have that effect on him."

Blushing, Leah turned red. "I didn't realize he'd been telling anyone about me. Truthfully, I never expected his reach to be so far beyond San Francisco."

"Oh, well, we're fishing buddies. I thought he took you out on the boat," said Lucas with his brows furrowed. "Or maybe that wadn't you."

Leah chuckled self-consciously. "Oh, it was me."

"From what I heard, you're a pretty good fisherman…fisherwoman…whatever. So, where'd you stop on the way up, Trapper?"

"The lighthouse."

"D'you go down?"

"Yep, all 308 steps."

Sucking in his bottom lip, Lucas grunted. "How long did it take you to get back up?"

Trapper smiled. "Well, considering I had extra weight on my back, it didn't take me too long. Maybe twenty minutes."

Lucas turned to Leah. "You rode back up?"

Smiling mischievously, Leah said, "Giddy-up," which made Lucas roar with laughter.

Turning to the bar, Lucas took two wine glasses and a bottle of wine from the bartender. "I've got your favorite table waiting, if you two will follow me." Once they were seated, he asked, "The usual, Trapper?"

"Yes, but the lady had something else in mind."

"Oh? What would you like, Leah?"

"Well, I'll have the clam chowder, too, but…how big is your fried seafood plate?"

Lucas held his hands out, then moved one hand over, indicating how high the plate was mounded.

Leah's mouth dropped open. "Oh, that's way too much. Do you have a child's plate?"

Pulling his hands together, he indicated a very small mound.

"Perfect. And can you leave off the fries?"

"You don't want everything fried, trust me. Why don't I bring you a sample of what we have, and if it's too much, you can share it with him," said Lucas, waving a thumb back at Trapper. Receiving a nod, Lucas uncorked the wine bottle and poured both glasses, then excused himself.

"How long have you known him?" asked Leah once Lucas was out of earshot.

"Years. Sometimes we bring the boat into the bay here to drop Lucas off and stay for dinner. And about ten years ago after he had a mild heart attack, I installed a stent."

"Ah, he's a patient."

"He was a friend long before he was a patient."

"So, tell me about this wedding you have planned."

"It's the same wedding. Just decidedly delayed. The private patio at Antonio's and then dinner. Oh, I thought we'd inquire about the pool house…see if it's been rented."

Her head popped up. "What will we do with two houses, Trapper? The pool house isn't that far from your house."

"I know. But it's right on the coast." When he looked at her, she swore there was some sadness there. "You loved it there," he said quietly.

"Did you go to the pool house? I mean, I know you had the pool house emptied, but did you go…the night I died?" He didn't answer. "I'm not sure renting it again would be the best thing. I can only imagine how you felt there…alone."

Taking her hand in his, he replied, "I think you know how I felt. Yours was delayed after John and the children died, but you eventually went through the same thing. You were more relaxed at the pool house than I had ever seen you."

The conversation stopped when Lucas and a waitress brought food to their table. After going over what was on the plate of seafood, Lucas again excused himself and left Trapper and Leah alone.

"To be continued," said Trapper. "We should eat while it's hot." Leah nodded her agreement, and both dug in.


	52. Chapter 52

**Chapter Fifty-Two**

Trapper pulled the Jeep into a business without a sign, but based on the merchandise in the yard in front, it was a woodworking shop specializing in all types of burl. "I always stop here and look, but I never bought anything because I never thought I would use it." Smiling over at Leah, he added, "It would be nice to have another opinion."

She smiled and nodded, and so the two went into the shop hand in hand.

The proprietor recognized Trapper and met them just inside the door. "It's Dr. McIntyre, isn't it?", the man said with his hand extended. "From San Francisco, right?"

With a wide smile, Trapper nodded. "It's been a while. I'm surprised you remembered."

"Well, I don't often forget someone with such particular tastes, at least, I've always thought that's why you never buy anything."

"This is my fiancé, Miss Haverty. I thought she might be able to help me make up my mind."

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Haverty. Why don't you two have a look around and let me know if you have any questions."

Walking to an alcove at the back of the shop, Trapper said, "It's still here. I can't believe no one's bought it."

Leah walked up behind him after browsing a table of turned plates and bowls. She smiled up at him first, and then followed his eyes to a tabletop made from a single huge piece of burl and finished to a bright shine. "Oh my, Trapper. It's beautiful. Is this the reason you keep coming back here?"

"Well, this and a few other items. I had thought I'd put it on the back deck, but I was afraid it would eventually deteriorate in the weather."

"Why don't you build a cover over the back deck? You could use it more often if you did."

He pulled her into his side. "We. We could use it more often. That is, if we stay there."

"I thought you loved your house," she said, turning to face him and moving her arms around his torso.

"I used to have a house facing Ocean Beach that I loved. But I had been looking at that row of houses for a while, and when one came up for sale, I couldn't resist. I do like the house."

"Then there's no reason to move. Buy your table, and build a roof over the deck."

Nodding quickly, Trapper walked over to the counter. "I'm buying the table this time. And if you have the two smaller pieces that were with it, I'll take those, too. Can you ship it?"

Leah walked back to the table of bowls and plates that had drawn her attention and contemplated several pieces. By the time Trapper's transaction was finished, she was setting several pieces on the counter. "I'll take these, please. Can you ship them with the table?"

"Of course," said the merchant as he rang up the transaction.

Both Trapper and Leah were wearing smiles as they exited the shop and got back into the Jeep. They rode in silence, taking in the scenery for the next hour until they pulled into the little coastal town of Albion. Crossing the only wooden bridge left on the PCH, Trapper slowed while Leah looked at the small waterway winding its way underneath the bridge and out to sea.

"I supposed that little river was much larger at one time," she said.

"Probably. But there's been a fishing village down there for a good century, so it hasn't been any bigger in recent times."

"Can we drive down?" she asked excitedly.

"Maybe tomorrow," answered Trapper with a smile. We have four days to explore. I thought we'd get settled, have a quiet dinner and watch the sunset from the top of the bluff.

Answering his smile with a warm smile of her own, she nodded as Trapper pulled into the parking lot of the Inn.

He stepped out of the Jeep. "Wait here. I'll be right back." She waited patiently until he came back with a key. Driving down to the far end of the complex and the bluff, he stopped in front of a cottage attached to the rest of the Inn by only a boardwalk. "Do you remember?" he asked.

"How could I forget this?" she said as he helped her out of the Jeep. She took the key from him, and after jingling them in front of him, she trotted to the door, turning and waiting for him.

He appeared at the door with their bag, the guitar and a smile just as she unlocked it. Pushing the door open, she stepped in and looked around the room, remembering the last time they were here while he set the duffel on the bed and leaned the guitar against a wall.

After closing the door, he wasted no time giving her a taste of what he expected out of this vacation. Moving his arms around her, he lifted her off her feet and kissed her as he carried her toward the bed.

Her arms came up between them as she wriggled away from him, walking away to the sliding glass doors.

"What is it?" he asked, moving behind her and gently squeezing her shoulders.

Lowering her head, she said so quietly he had to lean in to hear her, "We've done it again, haven't we?"

"What is it we've done?"

"This isn't real."

He held his breath for a moment, stifling the comment he wanted to make about this being as real as it gets. "What do you mean?"

Turning to face him, she moved her arms around his neck. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but this isn't what our lives will be. This is a vacation from lives that haven't even begun. You wanted me to relax…adjust. I can't adjust to life as your wife…or life without a computer until I live it."

He smiled. "I'm fully aware of that. But you haven't been yourself. You haven't been able to relax enough that you could give normal life a chance. And I felt that, maybe," he said with a slight shrug, "you weren't ready to give it a chance. I know there will be bumps in the road. I know my work schedule will present its problems, especially now that your work schedule won't be as hectic as mine." He kissed her forehead and stepped beyond her to open the sliding glass door, then continued on to the deck. When she followed him, he motioned to a lounge chair, and once she was seated, he seated himself in a chair next to her. "I was hoping this weekend would finally get you out of your shell-shock. Do you realize you couldn't bring yourself to go up the stairs at the house?"

Giving him a quick smile, she posed, "What if this is who I am now? Afraid to take a first step. What if all that's happened has changed me?" She moved her hand to her throat and gently scratched as she looked out to the sea. "What if I turn out to be someone different from the woman you fell in love with? It wouldn't be fair to you to move forward without knowing that."

"You've been the woman I fell in love with. I'm not talking about the woman who marched into the hospital and into my office determined to bring all of us into the computer age or the woman who entered a man's world, who survived by becoming hard and unapproachable to prove herself…or the woman who I tried for months to find a chink in her armor, but rather the woman I saw at Children's Hospital making sure all those children had a good night hug when their parents couldn't, or the woman who paid for Carlotta's chemo and made sure her children and husband were cared for while Carlotta couldn't, or the woman who gave a priceless basketball that had belonged to her son to a boy she didn't know, and who shared some rather personal information to make him feel better about losing a kidney." Taking her hand and holding it in his, he continued. "The woman who was just as passionate about a job that was killing her as she was about hearing Pavarotti sing those high C's. The same woman who saved a man she disliked because it was the right thing to do, the woman who plays guitar with such feeling people cry, the woman who likes to swim, the woman who celebrated catching her first fish…and even baited her own hook."

Somewhere in there, his personal plaudit made her bow her head and think about her life. She had been proud of her accomplishments within the confines of her career. She never expected anyone would take notice of the things she did for others…the quiet things…the things she privately enjoyed. "Trapper, I had no idea."

"Leah, you are the only one who has attached your career to your worth. Have you ever thought about why you do what you do…did?" She was silent for a long time, but Trapper knew she was thinking. She wasn't looking at the ocean, she was looking into the ether.

"When I started college, I was looking for something different…something that I thought would one day change the world. There was no computer science curriculum, per se, but the mathematics department allowed students to declare their own curriculum in computer sciences, and if it was approved, you could go forward. What was taught as science back then didn't interest me in the least, and I knew I didn't want to be a mathematician. I considered music, but that wasn't going to change the world. When I got into computer sciences, I found I enjoyed it. I remember by first text book, _Computers and the Cybernetic Society_. I remember my first assignment…writing a program in Basic that found palindromes. We had to input our code on a teletype machine, then enter our data, and once we executed our program, the teletype machine started spitting out paper." She smiled. "My professor pulled me aside after class and told me my algorithm was elegant in its shortness. He said I had a gift for design, even if I didn't choose to become a programmer. Anyway, I was hooked." She looked back out over the ocean. "I didn't have a problem walking away when JJ and Beth were born. I didn't have a problem cutting back when they were a little older. But after they all died, I had nothing left."

"So you poured yourself into the one thing you could do with your eyes closed to give you something to do without much thought…because you couldn't think," said Trapper. When she looked at him, her face was a mixture of surprise and sadness. "You shouldn't mourn the loss of your job at the hospital, Leah. You tell yourself you enjoy it because the job is how you've defined who you are since they died. But that is not who you are. Let it go."

Cutting her eyes over to him without moving her head towards him, she quietly said, "Excuse me," and went back into the room.

Trapper chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering if he'd said too much. He wasn't going to apologize. She needed to hear it. It was taking much too long for her to figure it out herself. After a short time, he got up and looked into the room. She had the duffel open and was straightening and hanging their clothes in the closet or folding and putting clothes in the drawers of the bureau. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No. Can we go for a walk? Maybe I'll have an appetite after some exercise."


	53. Chapter 53

**Chapter Fifty-Three**

Leah had worked up a sweat coming back up the bluff trail. When she stepped out of the shower, Trapper still hadn't returned from ordering their dinner. She slipped into her white tights…white loose tights. She'd lost weight. Shrugging, she pulled over the top she usually wore with her white tights, loose and hanging off one shoulder, and walked out to the deck. Glancing back at the door, she said under her breath, "If you don't hurry, you'll miss the sunset."

Turning back inside, she took the empty ice bucket over to the main building and filled it with ice, and when she returned, she placed the bottle of champagne they'd brought with them in the bucket to cool. By that time, she could hear Trapper's keys in the door.

"Dinner will be delivered in about twenty minutes," said Trapper as he stepped into the room. "In the meantime, I have hors d'oeuvres."

Leah moved under his arm after he set the tray on the dresser. "What are they?"

"I have no idea, but they're delicious," he said, giving her a quick kiss on the side of her head. "Try one, but don't spoil your appetite. We're having fresh salmon and crab for dinner."

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As Leah ate the last bit of her salmon, she glanced over at Trapper's plate, only half eaten. Leaning back in her chair and taking in the view of the waves crashing against the rocks below the bluffs on the other side of the inlet, she let out a satisfied sigh.

Based on the contented smile on her face, Trapper was sure he'd done well in getting her to forget their prior conversation. He hadn't realized she was now watching him and jumped when she said his name. "Hm?"

"No appetite?" she said, slightly nodding at his plate. "It was delicious. I'd hate for you to miss it."

He smiled and took another bite, and after he chewed and swallowed, he said, "I was distracted…by an exquisite form."

When she blushed, she wrinkled her nose as she quickly shook her head. "I can't believe you can still make me blush."

"You're chilly."

"I'm not," she protested.

With a impish grin, he asserted, "You are," and slightly raised his chin and his eyebrows as his eyes fell on the front of her shirt.

Looking down, she immediately hissed. He'd made her blush again.

He took his last bite of salmon, rose from the table and took both of their plates to the cart dinner had arrived on, then brought two smaller, clean plates and another serving dish to the little table on the deck.

Leah immediately leaned forward. "What is that?" she said anxiously while licking her lips.

"Amaretto Cheesecake," he answered with an evil grin.

The corner of her mouth turned up. "But it's so small."

Again, his eyebrows rose. "I've seen you what you can do to cheesecake. It's not healthy."

"I thought we could suspend healthy while we're here."

He chuckled. "To some extent. But not a whole cheesecake's worth," he said as he placed a piece of cheesecake in front of her.

Their enjoyment of the cheesecake was interrupted only by an occasional satisfied grunt or moan, and when they were finished, the sun was gone, the moon was high, and the sound of the waves drifted up the bluff to their cottage.

Trapper leaned back on the chaise, and beckoned Leah to join him. With his feet on the deck on either side of the chaise, Leah sat down and was almost immediately pulled back against his chest by strong hands wrapped around her waist. She flipped her slippers off and settled against him, both sitting quietly, listening to the waves, to the wind through the trees and to the occasional distant call of a seabird.

She moaned when she felt his hands on her shoulders and neck, gently massaging. After a few minutes, she turned over to face him, calmly looking him in the eyes before she kissed him.

"Change of heart?" he asked at the risk of ruining the moment. Still, he smiled teasingly.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, sitting up straight. "Or better yet, why are you talking?" Leaning back into him, she moved her hands to either side of his face, and kissed him again, a kiss that defined her mood and tasted slightly of Amaretto cheesecake.

"You weren't interested this afternoon," he said between kisses.

"Hm. That wasn't it," she explained, their kisses ever longer, wetter. "I just didn't want to appear too easy."

"Oh," he said as he covered her mouth with his again.

"Besides," she said, backing away from him. "What you said…made sense." It was as if her lips were trying to smile, but were too uncertain. She drew her finger down his lips, her eyes were bright and clear and saying everything he wanted to see.

He moved his forehead to hers. "Let's go inside," he whispered.

Standing together, each moved an arm around the other's waist. They walked into the room, leaving the sliding glass door open. Standing next to the bed, Leah slipped her top over her head while Trapper unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor. Moving his hand to the side of her neck, he kissed her shoulder and slowly lowered her to the bed.

The next morning, as they lay in each other's arms face to face, Leah opened her eyes, finding Trapper's eyes upon her and a tender smile on his lips. She closed her eyes again at the same time she tightened her hold on him, pressing herself against his skin. "Trapper, " she said, opening her eyes to look into his again, "Can we go home today?"

Slightly moving his head back, he said, "Home? We've still got four days before I have to be back at the hospital."

"I know." Moving her finger to his bottom lip, and slightly pulling down, she added, "I want to spend the rest of the time with you...at the house." She let his lip pop back into place.

Taking a deep breath, he looked over her head, but he didn't let her go.

"I want to see if we can be together without tip toeing around each other." When his eyebrow rose, she said, "Besides, sometimes vacations at home are the best ones." After just touching his lips with hers, she let go of him and lay back on her pillow. "Of course, if you'd rather not..." He didn't move or say anything, so she raised back up. "Trapper?"

Smiling, he kissed her lips, then brought her hand to his lips. Then he rose from the bed leaving her to watch him grab his robe and walk out to the deck as he wrapped it around himself.

Laying back on the bed, she stared up at the ceiling with a puzzled look on her face.

When Trapper came back into the room, he abruptly stopped at what was happening before him. Leah had pulled the duffel out of the closet and was packing her clothes...not his. "What are you doing?" he asked with his hands on his lips.

She glanced at him with red eyes and moisture glistening on her face. Wiping her eyes, she went back to folding her clothes and placing them in the duffel. "This...whatever this is...it isn't working. We both keep saying..." she sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand, "and doing the wrong things. It's as if we're two completely different people."

Rushing forward, Trapper grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the duffel, then moved his hands to her arms. "Nothing has changed for me," he said, searching her face for anything that would tell him the love he knew had once been there was still there. Enveloping her in his arms, he closed his eyes. "Leah, we don't have to get married if you don't want to. But I don't want to lose you, especially now that you're home, safe and sound." Moving his head back away from her, he touched her cheek with his hand. "I want you to spend the rest of your life with me."

"Then take me home."


	54. Chapter 54

**Chapter Fifty-Four**

The first hour into the trip home was quiet. In fact, the whole morning, through the packing and checking out of the Inn, had been unusually quiet. Now as they entered Point Arena, Leah touched Trapper's hand as it rested on the gear shift and looked over at him with a smile. She got back a smile as Trapper wrapped his fingers around the hand she offered, and rested it on top of his thigh. Still, he drove on in silence. She had not said anything other than to take her home. What home she was referring to was unclear to him. She had offered nothing else, and he was afraid of the answer he might get if he pushed her. So he was willing to remain quiet until she offered an explanation or until they got back 'home', and he saw for himself what she'd meant. "Are you hungry?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.

With her face turned up to the sun and her eyes closed, she replied, "No. Not really."

He smiled slightly at the road in front of him. "Should you eat?"

"I'd ask my doctor, but he's not here." She glanced at him to see his reaction, one she knew had caused him pause. "I'm kidding...sort of. You always tell me you're not my doctor when I ask a question, but when you want me to do something, and I call you on it, you...sulk."

Keeping his eyes on the road, he said, "I do not sulk."

Scratching the back of her neck, she replied, "What would you call it?"

He didn't answer, but rather turned off the road into the parking lot of a little sandwich shop. He turned the Jeep off, got out, and walked around to her side, opening the door, and offering his hand.

She smiled when she took it, and when she stepped out of the Jeep, she slipped her hand back into his as they walked into the shop. "What do you recommend, Dr. McIntyre?"

Trapper looked up at the menu board and gave his order to the young man behind the counter. "We'll have a roasted chicken sandwich, no cheese, a hot pastrami with Swiss, two orders of fruit, and two waters to drink."

"That'll be $10.75, sir," said the young man. After Trapper paid, the youth handed him a tent card with a number. "Place that on your table. We'll call you as soon as it's ready."

Leah had already selected a table by the front window and was seated when Trapper joined her. They sat for a moment looking at each other, each waiting for the other to speak.

She snorted. "Why are you so quiet?"

He tilted his head and curled his brows in uncertainty. He wasn't prepared to share his feelings. He'd already done that, and it had left him in limbo.

Leaning forward, Leah folded one arm over the other, resting them on the table. She searched his eyes for anything, some hint at why he was so quiet. He'd never hesitated to say what was on his mind before. "Is it that I asked you to take me home? Are you upset we didn't stay?"

Slightly smiling, he said, "I'm not upset we didn't stay." He raised his brows and exhaled a quick breath. "I had hoped we'd find our way back...like we found our way forward before."

She smiled sweetly at him, then let her eyes drift away for a moment before she met his eyes again. "I see. Trapper..." She paused searching for the right words. "When I said you made sense, I meant it. When I asked you to take me home, I meant with you...so we can start what our lives will be."

"Number five."

Neither Trapper or Leah heard their number called. It was as if they were frozen in that one moment of clarity.

"Number five," the young man said louder, looking at Trapper and Leah. They were the only two people in the place other than the employees.

"Excuse me," said Trapper standing, and just before he headed for the counter, he bent and kissed Leah, lingering a little longer than some people might think appropriate in a sandwich shop. "I'll be right back". At the counter, he asked, "Can we get these to go?"

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Sitting next to each other at a picnic table overlooking a beach, Trapper and Leah ate their lunch.

"Now, isn't this better?" asked Trapper.

" Mm hm," Leah grunted with her mouth full as she had just taken a bite of her sandwich. "So..." She giggled and apologized as she quickly wiped her mouth, then took a drink. "What I'd like to do first while you're still off work is not tell anyone we're home, because if anyone knows, they'll call you into the hospital. We need to figure out closet space, and who's pots and pans and dishes we keep, and then, I'll need room in your safe..."

Trapper leaned in and kissed her. "Nice problems to have. We'll make it work."

"And when you go back to the hospital, I'll take care of Arnold's problem. After that I'll interview some architects for the Children's Hospital..."

Trapper cleared his throat. "Uh, I've already started that." The surprised look on Leah's face prompted an explanation. Taking her hand, he said, "Albert came to me to tell me you'd left everything to me. The death certificate had already been issued. But after your body disappeared, he wanted to wait to turn everything over, and I agreed. I told him to do what he would be doing if you were still alive, except I wanted to go forward with the Children's Hospital. He gave me the list of prospective architects you'd asked for, and I started the interviews." When Leah folded her lips and nodded, he chuckled. "Leah, the Children's Hospital is your baby. You can start from scratch with the list or we can talk about the interviews, and you can go from there. It's up to you."

She bowed her head. "Would you be terribly disappointed if I just let it lie for awhile?"

Furrowing his brow, Trapper replied, "Of course not. But why?"

She moved her eyes up to his. "I think, after I get Arnold a new CIO, that I like to stay at home for awhile."

Trapper considered that for a moment. "You've always been...active. What would you do with yourself?"

"That's precisely the point. Since I'm not working with computers any longer, I need to find what I used to have before..."

Trapper watched her try to hold back tears. One escaped.

"There, you see. I need to deal with that, and during that process, I'd like to start doing all those things I did when I was home with the children. I'd like to turn the attic room into a music and craft studio. I want to plant a garden, and then there's hiring a contractor to build a cover over the back deck...and there's baking. I used to enjoy baking. And if I find that I...can't...do those things...alone...in the house, I'll look for a job." She gave a short laugh. Other than playing the guitar and creating computer systems, I don't know how to do anything else, and one of those is not an option anymore. Maybe both," she add quietly.

Trapper had stopped eating. She was making plans to move forward, something she had been avoiding since the accident. It deserved his full attention. "Why both?"

She became very quiet. "Because my fingers don't move the way they used to. I can't move my fingers the way it's required to play like I did...before the drugs."

"But you were using a keyboard."

"The movements aren't the same, Trapper. And I'm really not as fast as I used to be."

"Why didn't you tell me this when we were running tests at Snowater?" he asked, taking her hands in his.

She took a deep breath. "Because I thought...hoped...they just needed time, that it would all come back." Again she bowed her head. "But it hasn't."

"We need to run more tests to see if we've missed something."

"Trapper, I don't want to keep having test after test. I'm tired of all the tests."

Pulling her into his arms, he rested his chin on her head. "Leah, this could mean we've missed a problem. If that's true, we need to find out how major or minor it is." Her reaction felt similar to a balloon deflating in his arms. He turned her face up to his with a finger under her chin. "After our vacation is over. I promise."

"Then may it never be over." Closing her eyes, she moved away from him, rose from the table and walked to the cliff looking over the beach. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked out.

Trapper's eyes narrowed in fear. This was something familiar, but this time she wasn't punching the air. At least, not yet. He watched and waited for whatever would happen next…whatever she needed. The thought she'd jump crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. She wasn't suicidal. She was smarter than that.

She turned and came back to the table. "Can we go home now?"

"Is that it?"

Turning away, she snorted. "This is my life, such as it is, all because some idiot decided to drive a log truck he wasn't qualified to drive on one of the most dangerous roads in California." Gathering her lunch and tossing in a nearby garbage can, she looked back at Trapper on her way to the Jeep. "There's no point in trying to enjoy the rest of our vacation. I want the tests done and over with. Today."

Trapper nodded and followed her to the Jeep, his only feeling that he was the less desirable consolation of the events of her life. He didn't even look at her when he got in and started the vehicle until she reached over and covered his hand on the steering wheel with hers.

Taking a deep breath before she started, she said, "Trapper, I didn't mean to belittle my life with you. Certainly if there had been no accident things would have been different. We may have never even met. But it was not my intention when I said that to insinuate that you're part of the carnage that's left. On the contrary, I'm happy your with me, and," she snorted, "honestly, I still wonder why and thank my lucky stars you love me. I'm just not real happy with the physical repercussions of the accident and after." She moved her hands to her lap and bowed her head. "My heart problems, and now my kidney problem, and whatever the effects of the drugs I was given turn out to be." She looked back up to find him looking intently at her. "All this just when I find a reason to live…" Reaching out, she tenderly touched his face. "In you."

"Is it enough?" he asked quietly.

She gave him a crooked smile. "Is life ever enough for even a normal person when they approach the end of it?" She shrugged. "Trapper, I'm not going to promise you I won't have regrets when the coming of the end becomes obvious. I'm sure I will, but only because the time we have won't feel like it's been enough. I know that already. But I will promise that until it starts, I will give you all I have. I don't want to miss life with you just because I don't know how much time we have." The slight smile on Trapper's lips and the love in his eyes made her blush. "And…we should set a date," she added, shyly glancing up at him.

She was rewarded with a wide grin, though she didn't see much of it as he pulled her to him and kissed her. Stuck between him and the steering wheel, she moved her arms around his neck and the two embraced while locked in a long kiss.

"Let's go home," said Trapper, still holding Leah tightly. "We'll get the tests done, and then we'll take the rest of our vacation at the house."


	55. Chapter 55

**Chapter Fifty-Five**

Trapper drove Leah straight to the hospital. When they entered through the front door, Trapper immediately walked to the information desk and ordered that if anyone asked after him, he was not available. The next thing he did was turn the telephone around on the front desk and called Gonzo.

Gonzo and Ernie were waiting for them when they arrived in Trapper's office. After a hug from both of them, Trapper sat on the edge of his desk while Leah sat in his desk chair and Gonzo and Ernie sat on the sofa. "I want to keep this quiet. We're going home as soon as this is done to finish our vacation, so no one needs to know we're here." Both Gonzo and Ernie nodded, content to listen to what Trapper was up to.

"Leah has some neuropathy in her hands. She can't move her fingers like she did before she was abducted. I want to run some tests to see if the drugs she was given have affected her brain."

Gonzo nodded. "We should do an electroencephalogram. We might be able to see a reduction of electrical activity if there are any areas affected. What about a CAT scan?"

Raising his brows, Trapper replied, "I don't want to use a CAT scan. We'd have to inject dye that could affect her kidney. I was thinking about an MRI. Even though we can't see if blood flow has been inhibited, would can see if there is anything structural…a tumor, a clot, an absess…abnormal structures or fluid."

"We'll have to fight for a spot on the MRI schedule. It's pretty popular," said Gonzo.

Ernie patted Gonzo on the leg and stood. "I'll take care of that," she said, heading for the door.

"Ernie," said Trapper, stopping her progress out of the office. "Whatever you can find will have to give us enough time to do the EEG first. We can look at the results of the EEG at the same time we look at the results of the MRI."

"I'll give you at least two hours," Ernie said as she left the office.

Both Gonzo and Trapper looked at Leah still sitting quietly in Trapper's chair. "Questions?" asked Gonzo.

Her eyes were wide as she looked up them like a small child. "Will it hurt? I'm so tired of tests, but especially the ones that hurt."

Smiling consolingly, Trapper went to her, took her hand and beckoned her up out of the chair. "For the EEG, we'll attach electrodes to your head. Other than that you won't feel anything. You'll lay on a table that slides into the MRI cylinder, and the only requirement there is that you be still. I can give you a sedative if you want, but I prefer not to. The sedative could affect the results. And you'll get a firsthand look at those machines we fought so hard for in Washington," he said with the corner of his mouth turned up. She returned a slight smile. Turning to Gonzo, Trapper said, "Go find a gurney and a hospital gown and bring them here. We'll get her ready in my office, and then try to get her to radiology without being noticed."

"Trapper, you will be noticed," said Gonzo. "What are you going to say?"

"I'll just tell them I'm not here and keep walking."

It was late by the time they arrived at the MRI machine. Trapper gave the technician information regarding what he wanted to see. The technician entered it into the MRI panel in front of him, then spoke into a microphone as Gonzo helped Leah up onto the MRI table. "Now, Miss Haverty, there will be lights flashing all around you, so it will be best if you close your eyes. The machine will also make whirring sounds. You need to lie very still."

Gonzo bent over the table, giving her a reassuring smile. "Leah, Trapper and I will be watching closely, so if anything out of the ordinary happens, we'll be right here."

"What do you mean anything out of the ordinary? What would happen?" she asked with a dismayed look as the machine looked quite intimidating it was so large.

Gonzo chuckled. "Nothing's going to happen. Some people can't handle the confinement in the tube."

"What if I just sleep?"

"Then it will be over before you know it," said Gonzo. "The table will start sliding into the machine as soon as I give the signal. You ready?"

Leah took a deep breath and nodded. The next thing she felt was the table sliding back into what looked to her like a gaping mouth. At that point, she closed her eyes.

Leah waited in Trapper's office while he and Gonzo reviewed the EEG and MRI scans with one of the staff neurologists. He pointed to a spot on the EEG. "Cholesterol has a direct affect on the electrical activity of the brain, and there's no guarantee that the brain can recover from that kind of loss of function. It's a wonder she's alive at all. Look here," he said, circling a spot on the EEG output. This area of the cerebellum should show much more electrical activity. When we compare it to the EEG you ran at Snowater, most of these areas have improved, but not this one."

Trapper crossed one arm and propped the other arm on it, raising his hand to his chin. "Could something be masking that area…like fluid or a mass?"

"No. We would have seen an obstruction on the MRI," said the neurologist. "It was clean."

"So you're telling me the problem is because that area isn't coming back. That it's dead?" asked Trapper.

The neurologist smiled. "Not dead, Trapper. The MRI indicates that it's still viable tissue. It's just not very active. But look here," he said indicating the original EEG performed at Snowater. "When you ran this EEG, see how the electrical activity was depressed compared to the current EEG? There's no reason to think that this area won't eventually recover. Then again, it might not. We just don't know what effect a cocktail like the one Leah was given will have. I'd say she's pretty lucky. Other than that one area, her brain looks healthy."

Trapper let out a long breath. "What do I tell her? That she may or may not ever play her guitar again?"

"No, Trapper. You tell her to give it time," the neurologist said. "She's not going to heal overnight from the drugs she was given. There's no reason to believe this area won't heal considering how far the other areas have come. And if that one area doesn't heal, she can retrain the rest of her cerebellum to pick up the slack. She'll just have to practice."

When Trapper walked into his office, Leah shot up out of his chair. "How bad is it?"

He smiled. "Why do you think it's bad?"

"Because you've been gone a long time. It's after eight."

Walking around the desk, Trapper moved his arms around her. "The neurologist compared the EEG we did at Snowater to this EEG. There was some damage that has improved. He said you just need to give it more time. And you need to practice to exercise that area of your brain."

"I didn't know you did an EEG at Snowater. I don't remember electrodes on my head."

"You were asleep."

"Oh. So you're saying it will come back." She glanced up at him, and seeing raised eyebrows, she added, "With time."

"And practice."

She clasped her hands in front of her and bowed her head. "Okay," she whispered.

"Leah?" he said, slightly bending backward to see her face.

"I can't help but wonder what else is going to come up."

Bringing her hand to his lips, Trapper kissed it and held it there. "Don't spend your time wondering, Leah. Whatever's going to happen, we'll deal with it when and if it does. In the meantime, we still have a lot of living to do. Now, let's go home. We still have a few days before I have to be back."


	56. Chapter 56

**Chapter Fifty-Six**

As Leah went through her clothes in the guest room closet, she handed a hanger to Trapper every now and then until Trapper had to take his load to the master bedroom.

"Leah!"

She ran down the short hall. "Yes?"

"We have a problem. There's no room for all of these."

Leah stepped into the room and looked into the closet. "Hm. You, sir, are no longer a bachelor. You will have to make room. Now, let's see what's in here," she said as she stepped further into the closet. Her muffled voice floated out as she buried herself into the clothes that hung there. "How often do you wear a tux?"

"Not that often, so far, but maybe that will change now," he replied with a half-smile.

"And what is this?" she asked, stepping out to the door of the closet. "You don't really wear this, do you?"

"My skeleton shirt!" he said, jerking it away and holding it by the shoulders so he could admire it. "Yes, I wear this. When I run."

Her mouth formed an O, though she was silent. She ducked back into the closet. "You only get half. I'm sure you have clothes in here you haven't worn in a while. Some of these have gone out of style." She stepped back out of the closet again. "You get one side, I get the other, and the back can be for our formal wear. Agreed?"

Trapper snapped his head in a nod.

"So while you clean your closet out, I will see what I'm going to do with the rest of my stuff."

Trapper came into the guest room while Leah sat in the floor, going through a large trunk. "Whatcha got in there?" he asked, leaning over and peering in.

"Is the closet ready?" she asked without looking up.

"Almost. I need to find a place for the clothes I pulled out."

She nodded, her attention in the trunk, though she hadn't pulled anything out of it.

He sat on the floor next to her. "What's the story with this trunk?"

Smiling slightly, again without looking at him, she answered, "This is my trunk of memories. You never opened it?"

"No. I probably would have had you…died. But you didn't, so I didn't."

"I suppose I should decide what to do with all these…memories," she said quietly, reaching into the trunk. She pulled out an ornately decorated glass box, and sitting crossed-legged on the floor, she set it on her lap.

"It's beautiful box," said Trapper.

"Trapper, it's not a box. It's a mid-19th century glass…" her eyes shot up to his for a moment. "Casket."

Trapper twisted his mouth and chewed on his tongue, but waited for her to explain.

"When I was able to move after the accident, the first thing I did was have their bodies exhumed…and cremated. I didn't see much of a future without them with me. They're all in this glass casket. I wanted them to be in something that defined how beautiful they were."

"It's definitely beautiful." He reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of his finger. "Put it anywhere you want, Leah. This is your home."

She snorted. "It won't bother you to have my other husband in the room? Along with my children?"

"No," he said, chuckling.

She nodded and set the casket aside. "And you know what this is," she said, taking John's watch out of the trunk. "You saw me take it. I never intended to keep it. I just wanted to be the one who decided what to do with it, and I was afraid if I left it in the Fallen Leaf Lake cabin, it would be stolen. And these are baby clothes…my favorite ones for both of them. I thought one day I'd give them to my grown kids for their kids." She held up an envelope. "These are teeth the tooth fairy bought." She held up a much bigger envelope. "This is full of important papers, including my marriage license…" She smiled at the memories, but suddenly frowned. "And their death certificates." Placing the envelopes back in the trunk, she added, "House papers, trust papers…that sort of stuff."

When the papers were laid back in their place in the trunk, Trapper took her hands. "Leah, you don't have to do this. These things can stay in the trunk, and we can put it up in the attic.

Her eyes widened. "No, we can't. I have plans for the attic."

He looked sideways at her with a slight glare. "What?"

"I thought we'd open it up and make it a sort of den. There's a big window at the back. We can install french doors and build a deck up there to look up at the stars at night."

"We have a living room and a back deck."

The way she moved her body…slumping at the same time her body rose and tilted indicated she had something to say. And then there was that cheeky smile she wore.

"Spit it out!" he ordered.

"I don't know if I can be comfortable in the clothes I relax in in your formal living room. There's no place for my guitars. There's no place for my crafts."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Your crafts?"

"Oh yes. I used to do a lot of crafty things."

This time he shook his head as he laughed. "Okay. We'll open the attic. But where will we put this trunk?"

"I can give the documents to Albert and let him take care of them. And I can let the baby clothes go. And the watch. These days they remind me of something that will never be. Besides, at the time I saved all these things I thought I'd have more time." She could feel Trapper's eyes on her. "But I think I'd like to keep the casket. Maybe in the attic."

Later in the kitchen, Leah finished a glass of tea as she leaned back against a counter top. "There, you see. They look good up there, don't they?"

"They're chickens."

"There's one rooster."

Trapper rolled his eyes. "Ceramic chickens on my refrigerator. And what do I get?"

Leah cackled. "I thought you wanted to mingle your stuff with my stuff," she said, impishly narrowing her smiling eyes.

Trapper moved his hands to her hips as he pressed her back against the counter top. He watched her eyes as he got closer, then cast his eyes down to her lips just before he kissed them. Her hands moved up and down his forearms before they moved up over his shoulders and around his neck, her fingers stroking the curls at the back of his head. Their kiss ended in a succession of small kisses before they just stopped and smiled at each other.

"We're running out of time," she said. When his brows furrowed, she added, "To get the wedding planned."

"We," he said as he bent to kiss her again, "Don't have to plan anything. I just have to make three phone calls."

Wrapping her arms around his body, she looked almost straight up at him. "Then you should get going. We should do it tomorrow night so we have the weekend to be newlyweds."


	57. Chapter 57

**Chapter Fifty-Seven**

The parking lot was full at Antonio's Restaurant when Trapper and Leah arrived, Trapper in a black suit and tie, and Leah in a white tapered lace dress, one side off shoulder and one side of the skirt exposing one of the shapely 40-year-old legs Trapper adored.

He stopped at the door. "You ready?"

She smiled and nodded.

Antonio's was a fairly large restaurant with a back patio suited to private gatherings. Trapper led Leah to the back, and when they stepped onto the patio, they stopped in awe. The patio had been decorated with all kinds of white flowers with white trellis screens blocking the windowed view into the patio from the restaurant. Small white lights were strung along the beams above underneath a lush green canopy woven with more flowers. Six tables with flowers at their centers were set back from a small dance floor, and in front of the dance floor was a dais with a three candle flower stand on either side and a curtain of flowers flowing down a trellis in the back. The center of the room was bathed in white, but the sides were cast in shadow and further back into dark.

"Trapper, it's beautiful," she said as she spun around looking at all points in the room. "But how…"

He didn't let her finish. "I didn't do this. It was Antonio. When I told him we were ready, he said he'd take care of everything."

Taking one of his hands, she turned into him before she took his other hand. "Whatever did you do that Antonio takes such good care of you?" she whispered, her head tilted in what Trapper saw as an endearing smirk.

"I took care of his mother. And now he takes care of me." Both of them turned toward a snicker coming out of the dark. "What the…"

"Mazel tov!" Suddenly, they were surrounded by their friends, each one bearing a glass of champagne, and Gonzo and Ernie bearing two.

As she took the glass offered by Gonzo, Leah looked wide-eyed up at Trapper. "Are you Jewish?"

"No," he said, laughing. "Are you?"

"Oh, far from it."

"It just seemed…appropriately fun," said Gonzo, who made the first toast. "To two people who we never thought would ever see eye-to-eye, who we thought we might lose, and then who we thought might never see the light of day again," he leaned in and quietly added, "at least one of them, then who we thought would never find their way back to each other…"

"All right, Gonzo. You've made your point," said Trapper, feigning irritation.

"Who finally decided what we all already knew…that they belong together." Raising his glass, Gonzo finished, "To the rest of your lives, may you start your days happily waking up to one another, and end your days falling asleep in each other's arms, forever in love."

Leah turned away. "Damn, that was good," she said, running a finger under one of her eyes. She turned back with her thumb and index finger at the corner of each eye, holding back tears. "I'm not going to do this."

Trapper gave her his handkerchief. "I thought you might need this. For being known as the Ice Queen, you are awfully emotional."

"Yes, well," she sniffled. "This is after you 'turned the Ice Queen into a living, breathing human being.'"

"Who told you that?"

She laughed and walked away toward Albert who handed her an envelope. "For a well-deserved happy life," he said.

"What's this?" she asked as she ran her thumbnail underneath the flap.

"It's a check."

She stopped and looked puzzled. "A check?"

Albert stood unusually still with both hands in his pockets. He wasn't sure how she was going to take the news he had for her, but it was something he had to do. "Leah, you'll be angry with me because I know you wouldn't want this, but you, my dear, work miracles in people's lives. If anyone can find something good to do with this," he said, nodding at the envelope, "you can."

Now Trapper walked up behind her, and seeing Albert's face and feeling her nervousness, he moved his hands to her shoulders and squeezed. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "Albert, where did you get this?"

"I sued Doug Manning's estate on your behalf. He didn't have any heirs anyway, so it would have ended up in some government account slowly leaking out to places it shouldn't. We won. All of Doug's holdings have been liquidated and placed in an account and the entire balance written on that check. It's all yours, and don't you even try to say you don't want it. You and you alone deserve every bit of that man's ill-gotten gains because you did all the work. Do some good with it as only you can, Leah. Build your Children's Hospital. Open your Cancer Center. Provide at home hospice and arrange for parents to spend the rest of the time they have left with their terminally ill children. Those were the things you told me you wanted to do, but were going to have to choose. You don't have to choose now."

Leah had been holding her breath, and now she was slightly jerking as she tried to hold such strong emotions back. She leaned back against Trapper to steady herself, and whispered, "I don't want it. It's probably cursed."

Trapper moved his arms around her and held her against him. "Leah, did you listen to what Albert said? This money is going to disappear into someone's pocket who doesn't deserve it if you don't take it."

Spinning around in his arms, she looked up into his eyes with an intensity he hadn't seen since he forced her to have a checkup. He answered with a glare of his own, but still, she objected. "It will be a constant reminder."

"Then let it be a reminder of how badly he lost because you've ended up with everything." Listening to her breath quicken, he added, "Calm down before you fall down."

When she turned to leave through the back door, Trapper grabbed her hand. "Leah, at least sign the check and let Albert take care of it."

"You want this money?"

The slight smile in his eyes and mouth reassured her. "It can finally do some good, Leah."

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, then pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Leah," said Albert. "If you decide you don't want to use it, it can still be donated to charity, but that can't happen if you don't sign the back of the check."

She looked squarely at Trapper. "Pen," she spat, reminding Trapper of a time when he was ordered to speak as she sat behind her desk in the basement of the hospital. He cocked his head and angrily stared at her.

Albert produced a pen, and when she bent down to the table beside her to sign, she hesitated. "If I sign this and you lose it, anyone can cash it."

"Just sign it so you can get on with your wedding," said Albert. "I'll write the necessary verbiage and account number on the back."

When she finished signing the check, she gave it to Albert along with his pen, and after stuffing the check into an inside pocket of his jacket, he smiled while leaning in to kiss her cheek. He offered his hand to Trapper, and covered Trapper's hand with his other. "I know you'll take care of her, Trapper, as only you can."

Trapper watched Leah's eyes follow Albert as he walked to a table at the back of the room. "If looks could kill…" he said. She tilted her head and looked back up at him without a smile, prompting him to take her face in his hands and kiss her. She objected at first, but he wasn't going to stop until she gave in, knowing that once she did that, they could go on with the ceremony.

Still holding her tightly, he slightly moved his head back so he could see her. She still gave him a hard gaze. "You know, he can't insinuate himself into your life anymore. He's dead. Beheaded. He's not coming back from that."

She relaxed somewhat. "Why today? Why couldn't Albert have waited."

"He told you that. There's a time limit on that check," said Trapper. "I'm sure the Feds are scrambling to get their hands on it. Albert's just looking out for you the way he always has. Now…" He kissed her again, leaving small kisses on her lips before he stopped. "We've probably worried our guests, and I'm sure Antonio is just about ready to serve dinner which he can't do until we are husband and wife. You ready?" he asked as he slid his hand down her back to her backside where he squeezed, and then ran his hand below to the back of her thigh. Arching a brow and with his nostrils slightly flared, he said, "You aren't wearing underwear, are you?"

She pursed her lips in an attempt to stem a smile. "Would you be uncomfortable if I said I'm not?"

He pushed his tongue into his cheek. "Uncomfortable isn't the right word."

"Uh, Dr. McIntyre, if you're ready, it's time to begin the ceremony." Both Trapper and Leah smiled at the minister and nodded. "Good," he said with a wide smile. "If you'll both take your positions in the middle of the flower stands, we'll begin."

Trapper took Leah's hand and led her to the front of the patio. "Everyone, Leah and I want to thank you for coming. If you'll gather around, we'll get started, and afterward there will be dinner and dancing.

All in attendance came forward, and all of them without exception wore wide smiles, the excitement on the patio palpable. The ceremony was short and to the point. Each said their vows to the other as if there was no one else in the room but them, and once the 'I dos' were said, you could have heard a pin drop in the room.

Trapper moved forward, letting his forehead touch hers, keeping his eyes on hers, their mouths open and their lips barely touching.

To Leah, Trapper's hazel eyes were big and bright, certain and serene, while Trapper, at first, saw fear and doubt in Leah's. But as Trapper silently reassured her, his hands finding hers, the look in her eyes slowly changed to trust and peace. When she smiled, he tilted his head and kissed her very slowly and tenderly, and when he came up for air, each smiled and kissed again, their arms each wrapping tightly around the other.

As those in the room cheered and came forward, Trapper whispered, "Finally, you're mine."

Her eyes widened with her slight smile. "I've been yours for a long time. I was just too afraid to admit it. I'm not afraid anymore."

He kissed her one more time before they turned into the waiting arms of their friends.


	58. Chapter 58

**Chapter Fifty-Eight**

A month after their wedding, Trapper was in the attic painting the new drywall. The room had been vaulted and insulated and the beams had been stained. But the walls had to be painted and dry before the new flooring could be installed.

"Trapper, are you still up there?"

Carefully setting his roller in the paint tray, he trotted down the stairs from the attic and met Leah at the top of the stairs coming up from the main floor. "Well, hello," he said, giving her a welcoming kiss. Thinking he'd been alone in the house all morning and deserved a break, he lifted her off her feet against him and backed his way through their bedroom door.

"Trapper, I can't stay," she said between kisses.

He stopped. "Why not? It's not like you have a job to go back to."

"Ouch." She poked him in the stomach and wriggled away. "I hired someone today…sort of. Arnold and the board still have to approve him, but I think he'll be a good fit." She went to the closet and began removing her dress.

Trapper settled on the end of the bed. "What's he like?"

Pulling her slip over her head left her in her lace bra and panties, and seeing the appreciative look on Trapper's face, she smiled. "You know him."

His eyes immediately went up to hers. "Oh? Who?"

"Arthur Dorman."

"I thought he got Xanda."

"He did. He finished his contract there and wanted out. He doesn't like working for the government."

Nodding, Trapper pulled her to him. "So why can't you stay?" he asked as he pulled her hands downward so that she straddled his lap.

She indulged his kiss, giggling, but grabbed his arms before his hands could unfasten her bra.

"You didn't feel you needed one at our wedding," he said, kissing her again.

"That," she said between kisses, "Was for you. I'm meeting another man and have no desire to bounce in front of him, nor will I be pressing into him."

Letting her go, he said, "Good thing," just before he lightly swatted her behind.

As she pulled on a pair of slacks, she looked back. "Do you want to come with me? You might be interested in the change I want. It will make it easier to get from the main hospital to the Children's Hospital building."

"Do I have time to change?"

Her smile lit up her face. "Yes, if you hurry. It's casual. Jeans will do."

xxxxxxxx

Leah presented pictures of another set of buildings that used a walkway over a street to get from one building to another to the architect. In the case of the hospital, the walkway would be over the parking lot. The doctors or the patients being admitted could go to the Children's Hospital without worrying about weather or wheeling a patient through the parking lot.

On the way out from their meeting with the architect, they were stopped in the lobby by the clerk at the information desk. "Here she is now," she said to the two gentlemen standing in front of her. "Mrs. McIntyre?" Both Leah's and Trapper's heads turned. "Mrs. McIntyre, these gentlemen are here to see you."

Leah gave Trapper a puzzled look and stepped forward without letting go of his hand. "I'm Leah McIntyre. How can I help you?"

"Uh, Miss Haverty?" asked one of the men.

"Well, I was. I'm Mrs. McIntyre now."

The man extended his hand. "I'm Nate Petty, and this is John Raffety." Leah and Trapper both shook the men's hands as Leah introduced Trapper. "Ah, Dr. McIntyre. I represent the U.S. Government…"

Leah took a deep breath and became noticeably agitated.

Moving a hand to her back, Trapper said, "Perhaps we should have this conversation in my office. If you'll follow us, gentlemen." Once in the office, Trapper offered his desk chair to Leah, then sat on the side of his desk.

"Please have a seat," said Leah, indicating the chair in front of the desk and the sofa. "Though I will tell you this will be a short conversation."

"We're not here to check up on you, Miss Ha…Mrs. McIntyre," said Petty. "We're actually here to offer you the job at Xanda Laboratories again. You see, we've lost our Director."

Leah leaned forward and smiled, clasping her hands on top of Trapper's desk. "Yes, I know. I just hired him on behalf of the hospital as CIO."

"You wh…?" replied Raffety. "Doesn't that violate your agreement with the Fed?"

"No, not at all. I didn't need to work on a computer to know who was qualified to handle my former job. Besides, Mr. Dorman and I were already acquainted and have had several conversations about my work." She continued to smile, making Trapper cover his mouth with a hand to hide his grin.

"Mrs. McIntyre, it would allow you to continue your life's work," said Petty. "Isn't that something…"

"No, it's not," she interrupted. "That work almost killed me…" she looked away for a moment and scowled, "and it almost got me killed. I've found something else I love, and it doesn't cause the stress that my former job did, nor does it come with the stress from my former employers, including the U.S. Government. And I don't spend ungodly hours doing it. You guys actually did me a huge favor by forbidding me to do that kind of work anymore."

Petty and Raffety looked disappointedly at each other. "You don't happen to know anyone else qualified for that job, do you?"

She looked smugly at them. "I wouldn't do that to my friends, gentlemen."

Standing up from his seated position on the desk, Trapper said, "If you'll excuse us, gentlemen, we were just on our way out."

Both men looked at each other, nodded solemnly and left the office.

"Now, Mrs. McIntyre," said Trapper with his arm extended. "Can we go home?"

She happily nodded, but before they could get through the door, another man stepped in. "Leah, do you have a minute?"

With her brows furrowed, she said, "Just. Dr. McIntyre, this is Howard Marshall. Howie is the real estate agent working on purchasing the property behind the hospital for a cancer center, and after that, he'll be looking for other property near this hospital and the UC Children's Hospital for temporary residences for parents whose children are in the hospital."

Trapper's mouth opened slightly at the unexpected news. Still he offered his hand. "Mr. Marshall," he said. "Call me Trapper, please."

"I'm honored, Trapper. I understand you're Chief of Surgery here."

"I am."

"Oh, well, I'm sure you'll be pleased the hospital will be growing."

Looking quizzically at Leah, Trapper answered, "Oh yes. And a little surprised."

"Well, Leah, I just wanted to tell you the owner has agreed to listen to an offer. I'm going to stay in the ballpark of what you said you were willing to spend. I'll start low, but do I have any leeway on the top end?"

"Howie, the property isn't worth anymore than that top number. The owner would be a fool not to take it, but I'm sure he'll try for more if he finds out it's being purchased for the hospital. Legally, it isn't yet, so don't ever make that statement. For right now, it's just me. If they want more, walk away, but make sure they know how to get in touch with you." She paused and smiled at the recognition of her old habit of taking over and shook her head. "Howie…you know how to negotiate a price. Albert wouldn't have recommended you if you didn't. Use your own discretion."

When Howie was gone, Trapper moved her hand over his arm and started out the door again. "And just how is the hospital going to grow beyond the Children's Hospital? I thought you weren't going to take Manning's money."

She cringed. "Can we leave Doug's name out of it? I don't want that man's name to ever become attached to any of this." The subject of Manning was uncomfortable enough that she moved to pop her neck.

"Uh uh," said Trapper quickly moving his hand to the back of her neck. They stood in the elevator in silence for a moment, then Trapper patted her hand. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm glad you decided to do something good with it."

"Trapper, how come you're not getting many pages? Honestly, I never thought I'd see much of you at home."

He chuckled. "I delegated. I still have my own surgeries and patients, but for incoming emergencies, I've put together an on call list. I'm not on it unless no one else can be contacted. So far, it's working out nicely."

She leaned into him and turned her face up to his. "I noticed," she said softly, offering up her lips. "I'm glad to see you had it in you. I know it's hard for you to let go of your…baby."

Under his breath, he said, "I messed up one marriage that way. I won't mess up another."

"What did you say?" she said, giving him a curious look.

"Hm. Oh, nothing," he said, leaning in to kiss her. "Home?"

She squeezed his hand. "Home."

 **The End...Or maybe not.**


End file.
